


Du Doompa Act I

by rktho_writes



Series: Du Doompa (The Lowly) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, POV Multiple, Post-Star Wars: Rebels, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, References to Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), Sexual Harassment, Star Wars: Rebels References, Star Wars: Rebels Spoilers, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 34,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22706461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rktho_writes/pseuds/rktho_writes
Summary: It is a time of uncertainty and fear. For recently freed convict Com Narcom, there appears to be no hope. But even as he plunges into bitter despair, the Force works to turn his life around for good...
Series: Du Doompa (The Lowly) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741543
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. The Priest of the Force

**13 BBY; Dygni, the Tromani system.**

A thick storm shadowed the rolling purple hills, blotting the moons from sight. Great gidbats' wings made loud splashing noises as they flapped through the dark shower, screeching as they searched for rainsnakes in the soaking grass. Around a small hill was a town, bustling with beings in rainjackets, ponchos, slick broad-brimmed hats, or anything they could possibly wear to protect themselves from the downpour. Dromorses grumbled and moaned as they pulled hovercoaches through the streets, their piglike hides bearing the brunt of the elements.

Korma looked out from the window of the church. "What a dark night," he murmured in observation. He twirled a few hairs on his long, white beard between his dark fingers, watching the rain pour from the thundering sky.

"Observation: That would be due to the heavy cloud cover and precipitation," remarked Risuno dryly as she used her screwdriver appendage to uncap the lantern she was performing maintenance on. Her old circuits whirred as she worked.

"Yes, but it's _especially_ dark tonight," said Korma, turning away from the window and drawing his white robes about him. "It must be bitter cold. I do hope there isn't a poor soul out there without a coat and hood."

"Estimate: Statistically, it is likely there are around sixty or more such beings," replied the ancient droid, replacing an illumination cell in one of the lanterns meant to hang above the pews. "A fair portion of them could be droids." She shut the hatch, screwed it shut and the light floated to the ceiling. Her spidery appendages retreated into her back.

"Well, droid, being or beast, we'll take them in if they need shelter." The priest shivered. "It's even cold inside the chapel."

"Statement: That is because you asked me to leave the doors open," replied Risuno, folding her copper arms. "In case a droid, being or beast needed shelter. We should really have put a sign up instead."

"Oh, spare me, you antique," Korma muttered, kneading his tall, coned cranium. "Some beings are illiterate. What good is a sign they can't read?"

"Concession: Have it your way," said the droid. She put a finger to her cranial antenna. "Statement: My scanners have alerted me to a being entering the church now."

The ancient droid pressed the record button on her temple and the datatape sticking out of the top of her head began to hum. Korma walked briskly with the droid to the entrance and found a sopping, ragged human rubbing his hands in front of the heater the priest had provided for refugees. The man did not seem to notice the priest or the sexton, but muttered to himself under his breath from underneath his thick, greying beard as it dripped on the floor.

"Greeting: Welcome, good sir," said Risuno. "We can offer you food as well as warmth if you should need it."

The man removed his gloves and continued rubbing. His grumbled thanks was almost inaudible.

Korma glanced at Risuno and clapped his hands lightly. The droid hurried off to the kitchen.

Korma approached the man. "What is your name, good sir?"

The man glowered and looked away, wordlessly retrieving a datapad from his belt and handing it to the priest.

Korma read the information on the device.

_Com Ether Narcom, Human male, 46 standard years. Petty thief, repeat offender. Indicted on counts of theft, assault and resisting arrest._

A physical description was listed below. Korma looked at the man, who was still glaring at the floor.

"Welcome, Com," said the priest kindly. "Come with me. Sister Risuno is putting dinner on the table."

"Dinner?" The man laughed. "For both of us? At this hour?"

"We have been expecting a wanderer such as yourself to make your way into our sanctuary," said Korma. "I hope you won't mind my joining you. I have eaten very lightly all day."

Com shuffled behind the priest as he was led into the dining room. Two plates were set on either end.

Com narrowed his eyes as he sat. "Are these aurodium?"

"A small luxury," Korma smiled. "Sister Risuno will be along shortly with the food."

Com said nothing, but merely turned his plate in his hands, rubbing it with his thumbs. He picked up the fork and determined it was the same material as the plate.

"Tell me about yourself," Korma said kindly.

"I already showed you the datapad," Com snapped. He rubbed a wet spot out of his beard with his thumb.

"I don't care what's on the datapad." Korma folded his hands. "I want to _know_ you. Your criminal record does not define you."

"If it didn't define me, I wouldn't have to carry it," Com growled.

Korma frowned sympathetically. "Did you have any ambitions before you were sent to prison?"

"No," Com replied. "I was too focused on staying alive. When's the droid getting here with the food?"

"Patience, my friend," Korma admonished. "She will not be more than two minutes. Do you have family?"

"I did. They starved to death without me."

Korma winced. "I'm sorry."

"Of course you are."

Risuno entered, carrying a platter. "Declaration: Dinner is served."

"Thank you, Suno," Korma smiled.

No sooner had the droid filled Com's plate than the man began tear into it voraciously. Risuno quietly placed a goblet next to the ravening man, but he didn't even look at it until his plate was empty. Then he seized the cup and drained it in one swig. Korma thought he saw his eyes linger on the cup as he brought it down.

"There is more if you are still hungry," Korma offered. "You may eat as much as you like. We have prepared much for hungry travelers and vagabonds."

"Thank you," Com grunted, growing less brusque. "I haven't had anything but a jogan in the past two days."

Risuno went to fetch more food. Korma twiddled his fingers and tapped on the table, waiting to see if Com would be more conversational now that he had eaten something.

Com was thumbing the stem of his cup, feeling the etchings in the gold, but he wasn't looking at his fingers. His eyes were down just low enough not to meet Korma's. Was it a distrustful look? Contemplative? Korma could sense his emotions, but not identify them.

Risuno returned with the food and Com took it, gently this time. Despite eating less voraciously than before, his breath still came in gasps between bites.

"Please, stay the night," Korma offered. "You have had a long day, I am sure."

Com nodded. "Thank you."

"I will be retiring to bed now, actually," said Korma, standing. "If you need anything, Sister Risuno will happily provide."

Com yawned. "Where is the room?"

"Information: This way," said Risuno, leading the man to Korma's guest room.

Korma watched them go. He sensed something. Com's mind was racing. He was anxious about something, as though he had discovered some great opportunity.

* * *

Korma awoke sharply to a knock at the door. Risuno whizzed into the room. "Alert: Stormtroopers at the door!"

"What do they want?" Korma's eyes flicked toward the secret compartment in his nightstand, where his lightsaber was hidden.

"Answer: I didn't open the doors!" cried the droid. "What if they'd come for _you?_"

"I'll see to that myself," said Korma gravely. "Protect the guest."

As Korma rushed downstairs into the entrance hall, the troopers knocked again. "Open up!"

Korma walked apprehensively to the door and opened it. Standing there was Com, each arm in the grip of a stormtrooper's hold. Korma's mouth dropped open.

One of the troopers held out an open sack. "Do these belong to you?"

Korma looked inside and recognized his aurodium plates and cups. "Yes."

"We caught him attempting to flee with these in his possession." The trooper jerked his head disdainfully towards Com, who refused to meet the priest's eyes. "He says you gave them to him, as a gift."

Korma looked at Com. The wretch's shame rippled through the Force. So it had not been for nothing that this man had been labeled a thief, repeat offender.

"Yes, I did," said Korma.

Com's eyes snapped to Korma's, full of shock.

Korma looked in the bag again. He rifled through it and furrowed his brow. "Where is the cutlery? Why didn't you take— I must have forgotten to give you the cutlery. Wait one moment while I retrieve it."

"Did this vagrant steal from you or not?" snapped the sergeant.

"No, no!" Korma cried. "Release him at once! He is my guest!"

"You'd think he'd wait until morning to leave," remarked one of the troopers suspiciously.

"He said he would only be staying for a short while," said Korma. "He has a ship to catch."

"A ship?" laughed one of the troopers. "With what credits? I've seen broke spice addicts with nicer rags than his."

"I gave him those dishes so he could sell them to buy his way offworld," Korma replied with growing impatience. "Now let him go or he'll be late. I'm glad the Empire is so vigilant in protecting my property, but this man has done no wrong. Leave him be."

The sergeant grunted and waved for the two other troopers to release the prisoner. They dropped him and walked away.

Risuno rushed into the hall. "Alert: Sir! The guest is—" She stopped and stared at Com, panting on all fours on the wet polished floor. "—gone."

Korma stooped and put a hand on Com's shoulder.

Com's breath was ragged. "Why did you lie for me?"

"I didn't lie," said Korma. "The plates and cups are yours. And the cutlery, even though you forgot to take it with you."

Com choked. "I don't deserve that kind of generosity."

"Query: Did you say the plates and cups?" asked Risuno incredulously.

"Yes," said Korma. "And the cutlery. Go and fetch the cutlery, Suno."

"Objection: But—"

"Do it."

Risuno went off, grumbling, or what approximated grumbling in her limited monotone. Korma raised Com up by the hand. "Take them. Sell them. Make a new life for yourself. An _honest_ life. No more thieving."

Com's hanging lip trembled, his grey eyes misting. "Thank you."

Korma smiled. "May the Force be with you."


	2. Kaltha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for sexual harassment (1/2)

**8 BBY; Morso-on-Montal, Montal.**

The factory buzzed as the droids flew about, delivering parts to the workers below as they assembled comlinks and droid callers. On the wall looming over them was the Imperial insignia, looking not unlike the cogs they sifted through as they constructed the devices.

Kaltha took another box from a droid that floated over and began sorting parts and pieces on her workspace. She was grateful her work kept her from wringing her hands. The true temptation was to seize her holoprojector from her pocket and view the unopened transmission the Tarkays had sent an hour ago, but she couldn't do that until her shift was over.

Dench, the foreman, paced around the factory floor, inspecting everyone's work. Dench was more lascivious than a Hutt, and today his eyes looked especially lustful. Most of the factory's workers were female, but Kaltha was the only Twi'lek, and Dench had a fondness for lekku. Kaltha tried not to think about how soon he would reach her station as she feverishly assembled a comlink.

"Hello, Kaltha," Dench's voice oozed behind her. She refused to turn around. She jabbed the tips of her head-tails into her back instead, a hint that would go right over his head. She'd be fired immediately if he knew what that meant.

He was, of course, oblivious. "You're doing a very good job," he said, leaning far too close to look over her shoulder at her work. His breath felt hot on her ear cones.

"Thank you." Kaltha screwed on the battery cap tightly. A tiny crack appeared on the rim.

She suppressed a gasp as she felt him stroke one of her lekku. "My, but your tails seem to have grown longer. So pretty. They almost come down past your—"

"Don't touch me," said Kaltha through her teeth. She took a deep breath to keep her head cool. When she was especially annoyed, she had trouble suppressing the exotic Rylothian accent Dench found most alluring. She deposited the assembled comlink into the narrow hole that chuted the completed device away.

Drench withdrew his hand, slowly and delicately, sliding each finger off one at a time. He traced a lone, lingering finger down her lek before releasing his touch completely. "I could always pay you more if you would just…"

"_No..._ sir," she replied, taking another box of parts from the droid that had floated over. "I'm content with my wages, thank you very much."

"You will find I'm capable of…" Dench paused, wrapping his fingers around her shoulder. "…touching gestures."

"No."

"Only one night," Dench said with what he thought was seductive hoarseness, "and your salary would be tripled."

"I get on well enough, zank you," said Kaltha icily, her accent slipping a fraction along with her composure. "Don't you 'ave ozzer people to gr— inspect?"

"The offer is always on the table," said Dench, lifting his hand. "And between you and me, I wouldn't write you up if one day you decided to wear something…" He pinched the fabric of Kaltha's sleeve. "…non-regulation to work."

Kaltha made the scathing lekku gesture again as he walked away.

"You could just give him what he wants," said Jarn, one of the few males in the factory.

Kaltha cleared her throat, banishing her exotic accent. "_No._"

"It's be a lot easier on us if you did," snapped Orina.

Dench was massaging the shoulders of another girl and she was glaring at Kaltha. Kaltha ignored her.

"I think you two are made for each other," sighed Raelow, a forty-year old mother of two who projected her adulterous fantasies onto Kaltha. "I know you care for him. I can read microexpressions. You two should just have babies already."

Kaltha threw up in her mouth. "I don't have feelings for that rat-faced creep and I'm _not_ having kids with him."

"You don't have to have _kids_ with him," Orina replied, rolling her eyes. "Just put out for him so he'll leave us alone."

"How much is he offering you?" asked Jarn. "It's got to be a ton by now, doesn't it? I say milk him for a little longer and then cash in. I wish he swung the other way, honestly, because I'd kill for that kind of easy money."

"All of you, stop talking to me," Kaltha growled. "I just want to finish my shift in silence."

She huffed and reached for another bolt. She heard Orina whisper, "Stuck up."

* * *

At long last came the time when Kaltha could view her message. She selected a corner of the room and held the transceiver close to her face so she could hear it on the lowest volume setting.

The imagecaster hummed to life and a Weequay in a long coat and soldier's cap appeared in blue static. "Mornin', Kaltha," said Tarkay brightly. "'Ow are things on Montal? Cantina's doin' well, but I'm afraid it's not enough to cover the expenses completely, what with six mouths to feed. On top o' that, the girl's caught a terrible disease. She's coughin' somethin' dreadful…"

Kaltha heard the sound of her little girl coughing meekly outside the range of the hologram. "So we're going to need a bit of extra money this time around, you know, to keep 'er 'ealthy an' strong— Oh, bless me, the baby's 'owlin' again. Lona, would you quiet the baby down, dear? Well, get Port to do it then! Thanks, muni." Tarkay winced as his youngest son continued to wail in the background. "It's not much, just an extra thirty credits a week is all…"

Kaltha blanched. That was double her salary. She couldn't afford that…

"For your daughter's 'ealth after all," said Tarkay. "Quay knows we'd all be 'eartbroken if— SEVEN 'ELLS, BELLONA, WOULD YOU SHUT UP THAT BRAT!"

Kaltha switched off the communicator quickly, but it was too late. The tavernmaster's outburst had attracted the attention of the other workers.

"Who's that?" asked Orina, creeping closer.

"No one," Kaltha stammered, the tips of her lekku quivering.

"A message?" Raelow came over, intrigued. "Well, who's it from?"

"Just… someone I have to send money to." Kaltha tried to slip the communicator into her pocket.

"Who would _you_ need to send money to?" Orina laughed shrilly. She snatched the device out of Kaltha's hand. "Come on, then, let's see the rest of the message."

"No! Give zat back!" Kaltha shouted.

There was grabbing and scratching and pawing as the workers squabbled over the holoprojector. Kaltha had almost gotten it back when Orina yanked hard on one of her headtails. Kaltha cried out and dropped to her knees. Jarn snatched the communicator and switched it on.

"—sorry about that," said Tarkay. "Boy's always 'ungry an' never satisfied. Anyway, your little girl says 'ello, although she can't get out of bed. Send us fifteen creds extra right away so we can buy a healin' serum and I'm sure she'll be right as rain very soon, Quay willin'. Thank you kindly, my dear. 'Ave a lovely week."

The message faded out as Kaltha lay weeping in pain on the ground.

"So," Orina whispered. "You're hiding a kid."

"Who's the father?" Raelow gasped, horrified.

"Some random deadbeat, obviously," said Jarn. "So you'll get with a spacer and have his baby, but you won't spend one night with Dench? That _is_ perplexing."

Kaltha shrieked and lunged for Jarn's face. "Give me zat communicator!"

The workers yelled and snarled as Kaltha's holoprojector was hurled about, tossed from hand to hand. The commotion brought the attention of the entire room and soon a crowd was around them trying to break up the fight or shouting encouragement to Orina and Jarn.

"Stop it! STOP IT! DESIST AT ONCE!" a voice roared from the balcony.

All eyes drifted upwards towards the two men on the balcony. The workers recognized the prime minister and the regional governor.

"Minister Halmath!" Dench rushed to the front of the room and stood at attention. "I'm very sorry that—"

"I had _hoped_ to show Governor Tolfort an example of Montal's shining industry," said Halmath coldly. "Instead, I walk in on my workers fighting like loth-cats. This is unbecoming behavior for Imperial workers."

"I am _very_ sorry, Prime Minister," Dench groveled.

"You've embarrassed me in front of the regional governor," Halmath said sternly. "I expect you to report to me in person at the end of the work day, do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Minister," Dench said, wringing his hands. "My apologies, Prime Minister. Things _were_ going smoothly. You simply happened to walk in at a bad time. I was attempting to sort it out just as you and the governor came in."

"I hope so," said Halmath. "Governor, I apologize for these workers' unprofessional behavior. I assure you this is not up to their usual standard of performance."

"Of course not, Minister," said Tolfort, frowning.

Halmath stroked his chin. "I will return in an hour. I hope, Foreman Dench, that this factory will _then_ be able to show Governor Tolfort the meaning of Imperial excellence. If your employees are able to demonstrate such excellence, I will take minimal disciplinary action. Governor, will that suit you?"

"It will, Minister," Tolfort replied.

"I will identify and eliminate the cause of the disturbance," Dench assured the prime minister.

Everyone held their breath as the two officials left the room.

"What," said Dench, "is the MEANING OF THIS? Explain yourselves immediately."

"It's Kaltha!" replied all the workers in unison.

"She's nothing but trouble," Orina sneered. "She's got a kid the rest of us don't know about. No father around. She's scraping up extra money to pay some man to keep it hushed up. Probably has a side gig doing _favors,_ if you know what I mean."

"Are you now?" Dench's voice changed from angry to curious. "That seems very hypocritical to me."

"I do not 'ave a _side gig_," Kaltha growled. "I got into a bad relationship when I was young. 'E took off when he found out I was pregnant. I can't work and take care of my daughter myself, so a cantina owner and his wife on Monderon act as guardians while I send zem my salary. Zere's nothing wrong with zat!"

Dench stroked his chin and clucked his tongue. "How do I _know_ you don't have a… side gig? How are you scraping up the extra money?"

Kaltha opened her mouth and realized there was nothing she could say that wouldn't be doubted.

"You know the rules about working other jobs," said Dench softly.

Kaltha sighed. "The truth is… I work nights at a club."

"Aha!" Dench cried. "I knew it! You just don't want me to be one of your clients, then."

"I don't do _zat!_" Kaltha insisted. "I'm strictly a dancer."

"Mhm." Dench stroked his nonexistent chin. The others whispered his thoughts. "She's lying. Thinks she's too good for the rules. Pretending she's all by-the-book and prude. And all this time she wouldn't see the boss when she probably sees ten people every night. Snobby schutta."

"I would like to discuss this further, in my office," said Dench. "Come with me."

Kaltha thinned her lips and followed.

When they arrived at his office, Dench shut the door. "Now Kaltha, you know that nothing is more important to the Empire than loyalty. And to have such a... _disreputable_ side job is unacceptable," Dench clucked. "But… I _could_ let you keep your job, if…"

"The answer is still no," said Kaltha. "And don't even _think_ of lurking around ze club where I work if you find it, or I'll see zey kick you out."

"Right then," said Dench, lacing his fingers. He smiled warmly. "It is truly a shame to release such a dedicated employee."

Kaltha tossed her tails as she stormed out of the room to pack her things.


	3. The Shorted Repulsorcart

The sun was shining on Montal's eastern hemisphere. High on a walled, artificial plateau above the foggy ocean stood the city of Morso-on-Montal, seeming to gleam despite its grime, looking like a gigantic nest full of eggs. The ships that landed and departed looked like bees depositing cargo, as though they had made a hive within the clutch. To put it succintly, Morso-on-Montal breathed symbiosis.

Halmath walked down the street with his protocol droid C4-411 and Governor Tolfort. Even though he was proud of Montal, he was particularly proud of the city of Morso. Halmath's policies had done real good for Montal, turning it from a grimy slum of a world into a thriving metropolis, full of bustling marketplaces and ships coming from all throughout the Core and the Mid Rim to trade. Before Halmath, Montal had the biggest cesspit in the Core next to Corellia. Now, it could have rivaled Coruscant in the heyday of the Republic.

Halmath inhaled deeply, enjoying the breeze that blew through his greying hair, slightly mussing his pompadour.

"Chut chut," said a voice to his right. A Toydarian beggar flapped up, holding a tin. "Moulee-rah kolka?"

Halmath smiled and fished a credit chip from his belt pouch. He dropped it in. "Five hundred credits."

"Fye hundro creedas!" the beggar gasped. "Kuba grancha!"

Halmath nodded and continued walking.

"Do you do that often?" Moff Tolfort raised an eyebrow. "I have heard of your generosity many times, seen the shelters and sanctuaries you've built here, but giving a random beggar on the street... five hundred credits?"

"The minister is an eccentric man, if you will pardon my saying so," said Fours-Eleven, punching numbers into the datapad he was carrying.

"There's wisdom in it," said Halmath, wagging a finger. "That man I just helped now has the means to sustain himself for at least one month- during which, not having to worry for food or shelter, he may search for a job, and thus... enter the workforce. So it is good for Montal's economy that I am so generous."

"And how do you know he will search for a job?" Tolfort frowned. "He may easily waste it all on spice."

"I know how to spot a spice addict, Governor," Halmath smiled. "It's an ability I've developed over many years in the service of philanthropy. I could tell by looking at him he wasn't a spice abuser. I have faith he will use my funds to pull himself upward. In my experience, very few are so lazy that they would prefer the gutter to a job that affords them a more comfortable life. And at any rate, there are many places that will hire him. My administration has created an abundance of jobs."

"You never cease to amaze, Minister," Tolfort smiled, shaking his head.

Halmath waved to a citizen carrying a crate. The citizen nodded back.

"This is why I prefer walking over public transit," Halmath sighed contentedly. "A prime minister should be a person of the people."

"It's not very practical," Fours-Eleven grumbled. "We would be on the university campus right now if we had taken the train."

"I don't mind," said Tolfort, "as long as we finish the capital tour by the end of the rotation. I've had my whole day set aside for you, Minister, and so far, I am pleased with what I see, as usual."

Halmath frowned. "There seems to be a crowd up ahead."

Fours-Eleven looked up from his datapad. "Yes, there is. I'm calculating an alternate route to our appointment now."

"No," Halmath replied, breaking into a run. Tolfort stared in confusion as Fours-Eleven jogged after the minster, protesting, "I'm not built for speeds exceeding seven miles per hour!"

Halmath ignored his droid and tapped the nearest person on the shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Someone's trapped under a repulsorcart!" replied the woman frantically.

Halmath pushed into the center of the crowd. A Rodian was pinned to the ground by a slab with several heavy crates on it. "Hopa! Hopa jee!"

"We have to get the crates off!" Halmath cried. "Has anyone tried removing them?"

"They're too heavy!" replied a Nimbanel. "We've called for a loadlifter droid."

"There's no time." Halmath knelt by the repulsor's controls. The apparatus was completely dead. "Does anyone have a power cell?"

The crowd murmured and patted their pockets. It was a foolish question, since the machine required a bigger battery than anyone would be carrying around.

"Time is of the essence! If we don't get this cart off him he's going to die!" Halmath shouted. "Someone, anyone!"

"Hopa jee… Kolka…" the Rodian wheezed. He silently gasped in pain with the effort of speech, his breathing growing more labored by the second.

Halmath decided he couldn't wait for assistance. He grabbed the underside of the repulsorcart and heaved.

The crates slid off the lift and tumbled on their sides. Halmath threw the lift aside and stooped down to check on the Rodian. "He's broken three ribs and his lower spine," he said loudly. "Get him to a doctor!"

As the Rodian was carried away and the crowd dispersed, Fours-Eleven and Tolfort caught up to the minister. "What was the commotion about?" asked the protocol droid.

"A man was pinned under a shorted repuslorcart," Halmath panted, smoothing his hair back into place and wiping sweat from one of his close-cropped sideburns. "I rescued him."

"How did you unload the cart quickly enough to overturn it?" Tolfort marveled.

"I didn't," said Halmath, checking to see if the seams of his jacket were still intact. "I tilted the entire apparatus and tipped the load onto the ground."

"I expressed my amazement too soon," Tolfort breathed, stunned.

Fours-Eleven looked ahead. "It seems someone has taken an interest in your heroics."

Halmath saw a dark-bearded man in a cerulean Imperial police uniform approaching. He seemed to be aware the incident that had taken place had already been resolved, and as such, his manner was casual.

Halmath nodded as the man walked up to him. "Inspector Koss."

Koss nodded to the governor before addressing the prime minister. "An impressive display of strength, Minister," he remarked, raising an eyebrow. "Your abilities rival those of a Wookiee."

"Thank you, Inspector," Halmath nodded.

"I've only seen such raw power in one other human," Koss mused, more to himself than to the prime minister.

"Who?" asked Tolfort.

Koss blinked and coughed. "My apologies. I would insult the minister."

"It's alright, Inspector," Halmath reassured him. "I wouldn't take offense. Who is it?"

"A convict who broke his parole," Koss replied with hesitation. "I used to be a warden on Tromani before I joined the IOCI."

Tolfort stroked his chin with interest. "What was his name?"

"Com Narcom." Koss's lip curled in disgust. "Always a troublemaker. Tried to escape several times. He only succeeded in lengthening his sentence. He had already escaped and attempted to escape five times when he was transferred to Tromani under my watch. He made two more escape attempts on Tromani, if you can believe it, though he never succeeded in getting back to the wretched hole where he came from."

Koss shook his head. "I was finally able to impress upon him that his escape attempts were only causing his time to be extended, and he gave up. After he had served his sentence and was released, he almost immediately broke his probation and vanished from the galaxy."

"What an intriguing character," Tolfort mused. "I wonder what he's doing with his life."

"As do I, Governor," Koss replied. "I have precious few leads on him."

"What was his crime?" asked the governor. "He can't be a very serious threat, or I would have heard of him."

"It's not so much his crime, but his criminality," said Koss. "A repeat offender is likely to continue offending unless he is sufficiently deterred from doing so. Hence the Empire's strict parole regulations."

Halmath's lips were thinned. "Well, Inspector, seeing as you're here, why don't you tell the governor how well the Montal police force is doing."

"The crime rate is impressively low," Koss sniffed. "Thanks in no small part to _my_ efforts, although of course I wouldn't want to deprive the minister of credit."

"Yes, you have been an excellent chief inspector, Koss," Halmath replied evenly. "I have commended you to the governor many times."

"Yes, and it is finally good to meet you in person," said Tolfort, shaking Koss's hand.

"Tell me, Minister, what do you think of Minister Halmath's policies?" asked Koss.

"The results speak for themselves," said Tolfort proudly. "I wish every planet in the sector could follow his example. I will be giving notes to the other planetary ministers."

"Indeed," Koss muttered bitterly. "Well, I won't keep you. No doubt you have many duties to attend to."

As the inspector walked away, Fours-Eleven punched a few numbers into his datapad. "We're late, by the way."

"I know, I know," said Halmath, "but there was a citizen in need, and it's my duty to serve the citizens under my jurisdiction. A duty that supersedes the obligation to be punctual to one's municipal affairs."

"If you didn't want a stickler for procedure for a personal assistant, you shouldn't have purchased a protocol droid," Fours-Eleven huffed.

Tolfort chuckled. "You have a dutiful assistant, Minister."

Halmath wasn't listening. His attention was fixed on the Twi'lek woman they were walking past. Her eyes were full of scorn and loathing and they followed his unblinkingly.

"Do I know her?" Halmath muttered to his droid so Tolfort would not hear.

"I don't believe so, sir."

"Why would she look at me like that?" he wondered, furrowing his brow.

"I don't know and I don't believe it matters," replied Fours-Eleven. "We're behind schedule as it is. I can only imagine how anxious the dean must be that we haven't shown up yet. I suggest we take the train the rest of the way."

"Very well," Halmath murmured, looking back. The woman was still glaring after them.


	4. The Arrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for sexual harassment (2/2)

**4 Montal months later.**

The wind howled through the snow-lined levels of the city. Winter had come to Morso-on-Montal, bringing with it what was for most a charming spirit. But for the few destitutes on the street, the beauty of the snowfall was lost in the darkness and the cold that cut through their rags like a frozen blade, leaving them to cover their nakedness and shiver.

Kaltha stepped into the automated banking booth, disgusted with herself. But with nightclub work now being her only source of income, she would have to start lowering her standards and taking offers she had always refused.

And lowered them she had. She was no longer strictly a dancer.

She put her credit chip into the machine and transmitted fifteen credits to the Tarkays. At least the Tarkays swore her child was making a good recovery. That was all that mattered.

Kaltha coughed. Her own health was deteriorating. Once her daughter was whole again, she would have to purchase medicine for herself.

She walked away from the nightclub, only two remaining credits to her name, shivering. She was in no state to brave a Montalian winter. She had sold most of her clothing to pay the Tarkays. All that remained on her back was a dancer's costume and a thin cloak wrapped around her body. She struggled to keep her legs covered as the wind blew under her meager robe, as if it, too, thought her unworthy of dignity. Between the frigid air, the dancing, and things she preferred not to think about, she was very sore indeed. She couldn't feel her lekku and were sure the tips were turning black. She didn't dare check.

"Hello, pretty," said a familiar voice.

Kaltha whirled around. Dench's eyes widened. "Kaltha! I didn't recognize you. I thought you were a random Twi'lek."

"I find zat difficult to believe," Kaltha snarled. "I told you not to come 'ere."

"I didn't know this was where you worked," Dench insisted. "But I'm very glad to learn that."

"I'm sure you are," Kaltha shot back. "Get lost, sleemo."

"_Sleemo?_" Dench clutched his chest. "Kaltha, when did you become so churlish?"

"When I stopped working for you and didn't 'ave to take your nerf spit anymore," said Kaltha. "Leave me alone."

"You look terrible," said Dench, stepping closer. He cupped his hand on her cheek. "What happened to you? How can I help?"

"You can take your filthy 'and off me," Kaltha seethed.

"You're clearly struggling," said Dench. His hand slid down from her face to the edge of her cloak to slip it off. "I know a way you can make some extra money."

Kaltha screeched and punched Dench in the jaw. A tooth flew out of his mouth.

Dench touched his jaw in shock. He spat blood onto the snow.

His brow furrowed into a glare. "How… _dare you._"

Kaltha stood over him, nostrils flaring, when she saw Dench's expression change. She looked behind her and saw an Imperial policeman walking past with three patrol troopers.

"Officer!" Dench called. "Officer! I've been attacked!"

"No, no, no!" Kaltha pleaded frantically. "Stop! I'm sorry! Don't—"

"Quickly!" Dench called, spitting more blood.

"No! Please!" Kaltha grabbed Dench's tunic. "Do you know what ze police _do_ to Twi'leks?"

The squad stopped in front of them. "What is going on?" asked the leader, a man in a blue inspector's uniform.

"Inspector!" Dench cried, wrenching Kaltha's hands off his tunic. "I was walking by when this _nightclub dancer_ punched me in the jaw!"

"Is that so?" The inspector whirled on Kaltha. "You are under arrest for assault. Cuff her."

"No! No!" Kaltha screamed, dropping to her knees. "I can't go to jail! I 'ave a girl, a little girl, she's ten years old, she's very sick, if I can't work zen I can't get 'er ze medicine she needs to—"

"Quiet!" snapped the inspector. "You should have thought of your little girl before you physically attacked a man of good standing. Are you hurt, sir?"

"She knocked out my tooth, sir," Dench replied, opening his mouth to show the men. He gargled blood in his bottom lip and spat it out.

"TF-601, get a testimony," said the inspector. "602 and 599, arrest this woman."

Kaltha sobbed as the troopers put her in binders. If only she hadn't let her temper get the better of her. If only she'd accepted Dench's offer…

"Inspector Koss!" came a loud voice. The inspector turned around to see the prime minister walking toward him. "What happened, Inspector? I heard a commotion."

"This woman attacked this man," Koss replied. "She will be sentenced to no less than six months in jail for this offense."

"Foreman Dench?" Halmath's eyes widened. "Is this true?"

"'E tried to…" Kaltha stammered. "Tried to… Get me to…" Kaltha couldn't finish as she broke down.

"Dench!" Halmath exclaimed. "Did you molest this woman?"

"I did not!" Dench insisted haughtily.

"Please, sir, zere's a child," Kaltha sobbed. "My child, you 'ave to let me go or she'll die, plea—"

"Quiet!" roared Koss. "I will not tell you again, no more excuses!"

"Wait a moment, Inspector," said Halmath. He bent down to Kaltha. "What's her name?"

Kaltha gritted her teeth through her tears. "Leela," she whispered. Kaltha looked the minister in the eye. Her red, bloodshot eyes burned into his. "You… You _let_ 'im… fire me."

Halmath's eyes widened. "I am so sorry."

Koss cleared his throat. "Minister, if you don't mind…"

"Dench," said Halmath coldly, "you're fired."

"What!" Dench sputtered. "But I have run your factory industriously for—"

"You're fired!" Halmath roared. "Get your belongings out of my factory and get off my planet! How dare you stalk and molest this woman! Get out of my sight! Now!"

Dench yelped and bolted away.

"He was a witness!" Koss protested.

"You won't need to write that report, Inspector," Halmath replied, his breath heavy. "Release this woman immediately."

"But—"

"Do it, or I'll report you to the regional governor for disregarding a ministerial order."

Koss ground his teeth. "Report _me?_ Your leniency has always bordered on corruption, and now you are openly aiding a criminal in my custody? I always knew—"

"My policies are approved by Moff Tolfort," Halmath retorted icily. "Let her go. Now."

Koss snarled and waved for the troopers to remove Kaltha's binders. They did so and Kaltha dropped to her hands, weeping on the ground. Koss glared at the minister one last time and walked away, the troopers following. Halmath placed a comforting hand on the Twi'lek's back, then scooped her up. "Fours-Eleven!" he cried. "Get me a speeder to the medical center immediately!"


	5. The Inspector's Mistake

The sky began to clear over Morso-on-Montal. Now, instead of a blank sheet of whirling snow, the stars could shine against the darkness. High in the rotunda of the ministerial tower, Aberon Halmath entered his office.

Halmath sat at his desk called up Monderon on a holomap and found the address Kaltha had given him. After delivering her to the medical center, he had promised to make sure her child was alright.

Halmath looked up. Koss walked into the room. His demeanor was no longer haughty, but just as resolute. Halmath closed the holomap and folded his hands. Koss stopped at the minister's desk and handed him a datapad.

"What's this?"

"My discharge," Koss replied. "I made a false report. I must be discharged from the Montal police force."

"A false report?" Halmath frowned. "On what?"

The inspector coughed. "On you, Minister."

"Me?" Halmath furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Yes," Koss confirmed. "You recall an incident some time ago with a faulty repulsorcart?"

"Yes," said Halmath, "but there was no crime there. Why would you report on that?"

"It's not that," replied Koss. "You remember I compared you to a certain convict by the name of Com Narcom, who shares your unusual strength?"

"Yes."

"Well, when you arrested that woman, I reported to my superiors that I suspected you of being Narcom."

Halmath raised an eyebrow.

"I am sorry, sir," said Koss. "It was a heated judgement, born of resentment, and it is inexcusable. I have just learned of the error of my judgement. Shortly after submitting my report, I was informed that Com Narcom has already been apprehended."

"Has he now?" Halmath furrowed his brow. "You're certain it's him?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt," said Koss triumphantly. "Of course, he denies everything, but that's to be expected."

"Yes," Halmath murmured, stroking his chin. "He acts as though he has no idea why he is under arrest, or who you believe him to be?"

"Precisely," said Koss.

Halmath rose from his chair. "You said you were the warden who authorized Narcom's release. You have not been stationed on Tromani for years. How do you know for certain this man is the one you are searching for?"

"The place where his prisoner's brand would be," said Koss with a glint in his eye. "The skin is synthetic. He claims to have received a grievous bite from an akk dog which necessitated a skin replacement, but his alibi is too convenient. It has to be him. He will be sent to Wobani to serve a life sentence."

Halmath thinned his lips as the inspector sighed and went on. "I, too, must be punished. I have insulted your reputation, Minister, and broken protocol. You must sign my dishonorable discharge." Koss pushed the datapad to him.

Halmath picked up the datapad. He handed it back. "It's an understandable mistake, Inspector," he said warmly. "The Empire is grateful to you for your commitment and integrity. Try to avoid jumping to conclusions in the future and you will continue to serve your Empire well. You may return to your post."

Koss stared at the datapad. "You can't allow me to keep my position after I displayed such corruption as to attempt to have you fired because of my personal—"

"It was a _mistake_," Halmath insisted. "An honest mistake. Who would defend the streets if we fired every officer who made a miscalculation? What if you had been right? Hm?"

Koss sighed. "Well, if you won't fire me, I'm certain Moff Tolfort will. He took your side when I told him about the incident with the Twi'lek tramp."

"Tolfort's an understanding man," Halmath replied. "And he trusts my judgment. Take this back. I'm not signing it."

Koss took the device from the minister's hand, and left his office. Halmath sat back in his chair and sighed, kneading his forehead in ponderation.

He took his droid caller from his belt and pressed a switch. Fours-Eleven entered the room shortly. "You called?"

Halmath folded his hands and sighed. "The Empire has arrested a man they believe to be Com Narcom."

"Oh," said Fours-Eleven. "Well, that can't be right."

Halmath stared at his desk. "What am I going to do, Fours-Eleven? I've done so much good for Montal. If I stepped down from my position…"

"You cannot do that, sir," Fours-Eleven agreed. "Ignore it."

"But I _can't_ ignore it." Halmath slammed a hand on his desk. "I've always protected the innocent, whenever I could."

"You can't this time."

Halmath buried his face in his hands. "No, Fours-Eleven, I can't."

"Well, I'm glad you got that sorted—"

"Who am I, Fours-Eleven?"

Fours-Eleven turned around. Halmath had picked up the golden cup on his desk and was staring at it thoughtfully.

"You are Aberon Halmath, prime minister of Montal," said the droid.

"But I'm not."

"You are now."

Halmath clenched his fist. "All I have worked for, all the good I have done, is based on a lie."

"It is a lie that has done only good."

Halmath sat, stroking his chin. "But if I were in his place... would I forgive the man who put me away for life?"

"His feelings are irrelevant," said the droid. "You would be acting for the good of many."

"But he wouldn't understand that," said Halmath. "He wouldn't know who I am. He _couldn't_ know who I am if I were to remain in my station, or else the Empire would know who I was."

"You have always impressed on me the importance of sacrifice," replied the droid.

Halmath rose. "If I allow this man to take my place, he is a pawn, not a sacrifice. Bring me a holorecorder, please."

Fours-Eleven waddled out of the room and returned with the device the minister requested.

Halmath placed the holorecorder on his desk facing him, took a deep breath, and turned it on.

"I am Com Narcom, Prisoner 60031 of the Tromani Penitentiary," he said. He unbuttoned his municipal uniform and slid his right shoulder from his sleeve, exposing his upper arm. He turned his bare arm to the recorder to show the brand that was on it. He picked up the device with his other hand and held it closer, bringing the Republic prisoner's mark into focus in the grainy blue projection. Having displayed the tattoo he returned the recorder to the desk and resumed speaking as he rebuttoned his tunic. "I will turn myself in shortly, but now I have a promise to fulfill to a woman on bedrest."

Halmath opened his desk drawer and pulled out a datapad. "This will allow you to monitor my location. My droid will deliver it to you. I only request that you allow me to travel to Monderon and back, and that you release the man you have in custody. He has done no wrong."

Halmath switched off the recorder. "Take this to the police station," he said as he rebuttoned his uniform. He handed him the recorder and the datapad.

"I'm going to miss you, Minister," said Fours-Eleven, taking the device.

The minister smiled. "Call me Com."


	6. Cornered

"Where is my daughter?" asked Kaltha. "Where is Leela?"

"She is not here, madam," replied the medical droid. "You need your rest."

"I need someone to get my daughter right away," said Kaltha urgently. "Where's ze minister? He promised he would bring her to me."

"I do not know where the minister is," said the droid. "But he was only here a few hours ago. He could not have gone to Monderon and back between then and now. If he has left for Monderon, he is likely arranging for your daughter's return now."

Kaltha shivered. The room felt so cold despite the fact that she was drenched in sweat.

"Rest, madam," said the droid. "You have a severe fever. If you do not rest you may not recover."

"Alright," said Kaltha, chewing her lip. She closed her eyes. The droid went to fetch more medicine for her infusion pump.

Voices came from outside, muffled by the door. "You can't see her now, Minister, she's resting."

"It's urgent. I won't be long." The doors slid open and Halmath rushed to Kaltha's bedside.

"Minister?" she croaked. "Do you have my child? Where is she?"

"I came to tell you I'm leaving for Monderon immediately," Halmath replied comfortingly. "I'll have her here by the beginning of the planetary rotation."

"The Goddess bless you, sir," Kaltha smiled. She closed her eyes. "Bring her to me."

"I will." Halmath bowed his head and turned to leave. The door burst open.

"Well," Koss sneered. "I didn't expect to find you planetside, let alone still in Morso."

Kaltha gasped. "No, no, no!" she screamed, pulling her sheet up to her eyes. "Don't take me away! Minister, you said he wouldn't come for me!"

"I haven't," said Koss icily, his gaze fixed firmly on Halmath.

"Koss," Halmath said with an edge, lifting a hand, "I told you I would turn myself in. But I've made a promise to this woman that I must fulfill first."

"A promise!" Koss scoffed. "A promise, made by a thief and a criminal, who fraudulently bought his way into the position of prime minister! I have heard many excuses in my time, but not one quite so rich."

"What?" asked Kaltha. "Who's a thief? What are you talking about?"

"This man, this so-called Prime Minister Halmath," Koss exclaimed malevolently, "is a fraud. He is not Aberon Halmath, but Com Narcom, the thief! He is a liar! He will not keep any promise he has made to you."

"What!" Kaltha gasped. "Minister, is zis… Minister?"

"It is true that my name is not Halmath," said Com, "but I _will_ keep your promise. I—"

"You cannot trust him!" Koss shouted gloatingly. "He has broken the law time and time again and he will break your promise!"

Kaltha shrieked. The monitor beeped rapidly as she stiffened, eyes wide, and fell back. She lay there unmoving with her frantic eyes still open.

"No, no!" Com rushed to her side and checked for her pulse. He seized the edges of the vitals panel and stared into it. Her breathing had stopped. Her erratic heartbeat flattened to nothing and her brain activity followed suit.

Com stood seething over the panel. "You've killed her."

"She was on death's door," Koss scoffed. "The slightest shock could have killed her."

"That's exactly what it did!" Com roared. He whirled on the inspector. "Now you listen to me," he said with heavy breath, "I told this woman I would retrieve her child and I'm going to do it."

"Still clinging to that story, are you?" Koss growled. "You must take me for a fool."

"After I make sure the child is safe," Com insisted, "I'll make good on my other promise and turn myself in. You can come with me to make sure of it. Just let me retrieve the girl."

"I'm not going to let you go after all these years, _M__inister_," Koss sneered. He drew his blaster. "I've been recapturing your worthless hide since before the Empire was founded. I'm not about to let you slip through my fingers now when I have apprehended you every time. There will be no escape. There has _never_ been an escape."

Com drew his pistol. "Believe what you want. I made two promises and I know which one I will break if I have to."

"So you admit it!" Koss crowed. "You do _not_ keep your promises. You cannot bargain your way out of this, Narcom."

"You don't know a thing about me," Com snarled, moving slowly counterclockwise as he searched for an escape. "Who I've become. I'm a honest man now. I made that promise years ago."

"You broke that one too." Koss trained his gun on Com and began to circle as well. "_Aberon Halmath?_ Please. And don't act as though you didn't use your newfound wealth to rise to your station. You never would have made it otherwise. Where did you get it? How many people did you have to steal from to become so rich and influential that you could bribe your way to the top?"

"It was gifted to me on condition I use it to reform myself," said Com.

"Lying is in your nature," Koss hissed gleefully. "You simply can't stop. I only wonder how you managed to steal from so many in such a short timespan."

"I'm not going to argue with you," Com snapped. "I'm going to do what I said I would."

"You are nothing." Koss's face twisted with hatred. "I don't know a thing about you? That makes two of us. Since you elected to share your 'story' with me, let me do the same."

Koss walked closer, his pistol still trained on Com. "Did you know I'm not fully human, Narcom? My dirty little secret."

Koss removed his cap, revealing a crown of stub horns around his head. "I'm half-Zabrak. Through my mother. She was a thief, like you. My father was a senator imprisoned for corruption, like you will soon be, _Minister._ You remind me so much of my parents, Narcom."

Com's hand shook. He gripped it with his other hand to hold his blaster steady and retreated back. His gun was now pointed at the inspector's head.

"They had me in prison," snarled Koss. "And from the moment of my birth I was scorned. Doomed to live in the shadow of Senator Koss and his jail slag mistress. Doomed to live in disgrace for another man's crimes. But if I made it life's work to serve justice, I would be known as an honorable man. So I enlisted in the Empire, and made a new name for myself, tracking down scum… like… you."

Koss squeezed his trigger the split second he saw Com's knuckle clench, but it was too late. He toppled backward and hit the floor, stunned. Com lay panting on his knees. The pockmark on the wall smoked. Com was grateful for the fast reflexes that had saved his life. He picked up his blaster he had dropped when he'd dove out of the way. Seeing that the only window in the room was not the kind that opened, he shot it out, reached into his coat and dropped a bag of credits on the floor, and climbed down. The moment he dropped to the ground, he ran as fast as he could in search of a speeder to borrow.


	7. Leela

**Monderon**

The sign outside Tarkay's Hostel Cantina blinked weakly, sparking occasionally and dimly illuminating the graffiti-like mural beside the door depicting a red-capped Weequay standing triumphantly on a pile of battle droids. An Aqualish stood in front of the painting with all four eyes narrowed, looking at the grime-stained walls of the tavern in front of him. He looked around, but all he could see down either side of the road were houses and shops poking out of the sand-colored grass. The hostel, the tallest building for miles, looked to be his only option. So he stepped up to the door and it slid open to admit him.

A Weequay in a red cap bearing a passing resemblance to the figure on the mural turned his head and strode through the tables and chairs to greet him. "Sit yourself down, sir. 'Ave a drink! First one comes with the room."

Tarkay patted the customer on the shoulder as he slid him into a chair and placed a glass in front of him with a wink. Then he sashayed over to another table, his dark blue coat-tails swishing behind him. "Chowbaso, my pateesa, my pateesa!" he cried. "Let me take that for you." He lifted a Rodian's backpack off their back and carried it over to a shelf. Surreptitiously, he opened the pack and palmed a small bag from it, from which he removed a few credits. He slipped the credits under his red cap.

He noticed a patron slumped over his table, passed out. He rushed over to him, slipped a hand in and out of his pocket, and shook him. "Wake up, sir! You're drunk!"

The patron stirred and looked up questioningly. "Why don't you return to your room where you can nurse that 'angover you're goin' to 'ave tomorrow?" Tarkay helped the patron stand, sent him stumbling off to his lodgings and made his way to the counter, chuckling as he pocketed the credits he'd nicked from the inebriated customer. "'Ow's dinner, love?"

"I don't 'ave enough milk," Tarkay's wife grumbled.

"Well, 'ave the girl get it, what's 'er name, Leeta," Tarkay drawled, sauntering off. "Chuba ya! May I interest you in a bottle o' yatooni boska, sir? Only five credits! Un che copa nagoola, eh?"

Tarkay's wife turned around. "Oi! Leela! Get in 'ere, now!"

A terrified Twi'lek girl of ten scurried into the room. "Y-yes, Mrs. Tarkay?"

"Go an' milk the betdelays," Tarkay's wife barked.

"Now?" Leela's lip trembled. "But it's dark."

"'But it's dark,'" Tarkay's wife mimicked. "What a baby. 'Ow old are you? You get the bucket and you get out there and don't come back until you've filled it! I need at least another gallon if I'm to feed this crowd, an' if they don't eat then neither will you! Move it!"

Leela dashed from the room. She wrapped her skinny arms around the milking keg and swung her shoulder into the access panel to open the door. She could barely see around the barrel as she stepped into the night, bumping it on the doorway as she stumbled out. The Tarkays' hangar-like barn was several yards from the hostel. Leela timidly made her way toward the barn, praying she wouldn't encounter any snakes or tigriplas lurking in the grass, and also that she was going in a straight line and wouldn't miss the barn entirely, since she could barely see or walk without wobbling.

The howl of a loopla set her on edge and made the night seem colder. Leela tried to take her mind off her fear by thinking about living in a floating palace on Bespin. She'd met a smuggler once named Calrissian who had told her about the planet Bespin, how it was beautiful and full of magnificent clouds, and he intended to buy a retreat mansion there someday, when he was ready to leave the smuggling business.

He had told her all this while she was standing behind him, holding up her fingers to slip Tarkay the value of his opponent's sabacc hand. That was how Leela had seen Calrissian pull an extra card from his sleeve. When Tarkay found out Calrissian was cheating, he got angry and kicked him out. Leela wished she hadn't accidentally let that slip. If Tarkay had gotten reckless, he might have betted her off, and she could have gone to live with Calrissian. But then her mother wouldn't know where she was.

Leela timidly entered the barn and saw the betdelays. The great round, rubbery beasts were snoring loudly, their udders squashed under their fat bellies. She would have to wake one to milk it.

Leela flicked the switch and the one illuminator that actually worked sparked on, casting a dim glow in one corner of the room. Leela set down the keg and walked up to one of the smaller betdelays. Gingerly, she poked it, to no effect.

Leela took a deep breath and slapped the beast's side as hard as she dared.

The betdelay's eyes opened groggily. "Up!" she said. "Up!" She poked it a few more times.

The betdelay groaned and heaved itself onto its legs. Leela took the barrel and pushed it underneath the creature's udder.

Leela pulled and pulled on the udders, but she was only able to fill the keg a few inches. She bit her lip and looked around. The Tarkays only had six betdelays. If she couldn't get more milk out of the other ones, she wouldn't be able to fill the bucket, and even if she could, she'd probably have to wake every single one to do it.

Trying not to cry, she moved to the next one and patted it awake.

Discouragingly, she encountered similar results. She took a deep breath of determination. Surely the next one was full to bursting. But when she roused another betdelay and saw its teats, she knew it was unlikely.

As expected, the third betdelay yielded very little. The keg was not even a third of the way full. She knew she couldn't get the milk the Tarkays needed.

Leela sat down with her knees drawn up and began to cry. The Tarkays would compensate for the milk with water, but she would get nothing but blame. Her hunger gnawed at her fiercely. She had had only been allowed a very meager lunch, and been forced to get up early to work without breakfast. If the Tarkays were feeling particularly cruel, they'd make her sit at the table instead of sending her to her room, so she could watch the Tarkays' daughters eat their supper gloatingly while she starved.

Leela heard the barn door open and froze. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Tarkay!" she wailed. "They've been milked already and I can't get anymore!"

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else," said the person behind her. She turned around. It wasn't one of the Tarkays at all, but a human male with a large backpack. The man turned the flashlight away from Leela's eyes and toward the ceiling of the barn so his face was visible. His eyes were full of concern. "Were you crying?"

Leela wiped her eyes. "It's just that I can't get enough milk for the mistress's cream soup," she replied. "She doesn't have enough for the customers."

"Hm," said the man. "You've milked all six of these creatures?"

"Well, no," Leela admitted, sniffling. "But I've milked half of them and I've only gotten this much." She pointed to the keg.

The man looked inside. "I see." He stroked his chin, then his brows lifted. "I have an idea. Can you wait for me?"

Leela looked up at him. "How soon will you be back?" She shuddered. "If I take too long, Mrs. Tarkay might come out here."

"I'm going to take a speeder to go buy some," said the man, patting her head. "How long does the milking take when the creatures are lactating?"

"Thirty minutes," Leela replied, wiping her nose. "I've been out here for five."

"I'll be back in fifteen," the man promised. "Milk the rest of them while I'm gone. What's your name?"

"I'm Leela."

The man's eyes widened. He stared at Leela's bony frame, at the bruises on her shoulders. "Do they... treat you like this?"

Leela nodded.

The man's eyes grew stormy. "Listen to me very carefully. Your mother's sent me to get you."

"Has she saved up enough money?" asked Leela, her eyes lighting up. "Will we be together forever now?"

The man laid a hand on her head. "No, Leela. I'm sorry. Your mother is... somewhere where she will never feel pain again."

Tears filled Leela's eyes. "You mean she's dead, don't you."

"Yes," replied the man softly. "I'm so sorry."

He held her close and let her cry into his jacket. "I'm going to take you far away from here. You won't be starved or beaten ever again."

Leela sniffled. The man patted her back and stood. "You stay here," he said. "I'll fetch the milk."

Leela nodded and sat on the floor, tears still running down her face. But as devastating as the loss of her mother was, the news that she would be leaving the Tarkays filled her with a hope like she had never felt before.


	8. A New Custodian

Tarkay looked to see who had come through the door. A human male entered, carrying his milk keg. Tarkay saw Leela trailing behind him, holding his hand. Her eyes were red, but she was smiling.

Tarkay walked over to the man. "Chowbaso! Niuta be comta. Say, er, what are you doin' there with my jug?"

"Just helping your charge carry it," replied the stranger. "It's very heavy."

"Oh, it's not too 'eavy, she can always roll it," Tarkay waved.

"She got more milk than usual," the stranger explained. "Almost two gallons worth."

Tarkay took the barrel from his arms and nearly buckled. There was more than two gallons in it.

"'Ey Lona!" he grunted as he staggered over to the counter. "Leera's back!" He heaved the keg onto the counter.

"About bloody time." His wife rolled her eyes. She moved to put the barrel on the floor so she could open the top. "'Ow much did she _get?_"

"Quite a bit," Tarkay panted, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "The stranger over there 'elped carry it in."

"Evening," said the stranger from directly behind him, making Tarkay start. "My name is Ducatzis Zirowan. Kaltha sent me."

"Did she now?" Tarkay stroked his leathery chin. "Well, welcome to Tarkay's 'Ostel Cantina. 'Ow's she doin'?"

Zirowan looked grave. "She has passed away. I've already informed the child."

"I have to use the vacc tube," said Leela, holding her crotch.

"Be quick about it," Tarkay snapped. "Passed away, you say? You don't mean that?"

"I'm afraid I do," Zirowan said gravely.

Tarkay's wife gasped. Tarkay swallowed. "You mean she's... gone?"

Zirowan nodded.

"But that means..." Tarkay sat on one of his barstools and cradled his head in his hands. "Oh, Zalq."

"Thirty credits a week," Tarkay's wife whispered under her breath. "Gone..."

Tarkay cleared his throat very loudly, following it up with a sniffle to put an elephoth to shame. "It can't be. Oh, poor Kaltha, gone far, far too soon. It couldn't 'ave 'appened to a less deservin' woman. What ever is to become of 'er child now that she 'as left this cruel galaxy?"

"I have come to collect her," said Zirowan. "As per her mother's final request."

"By all—" Tarkay's wife invited, but her husband elbowed her and cut her off. "Now just a minute, 'ere. You, a stranger, expect us to just... _'and over_ our ward to you? The girl we've raised as one of our own for close to eight years?"

"It was her mother's dying wish that I take her into my custody."

"Be that as it may," Tarkay huffed, "I can't just let you take Leetra—"

"Leela!" Tarkay's wife hissed.

"I _said_ Leela— away from us," Tarkay pouted. "We'll need compensation, at the very least, as a token that we're putting 'er in good 'ands."

Zirowan furrowed his brow and removed his backpack. He then took a large bag from it and deposited it into Tarkay's hands. "Fifteen thousand credits, for your trouble, as thanks from me on behalf of Kaltha."

Tarkay stood stunned as Zirowan marched out of the room to fetch Leela. He had no idea the man was so wealthy. He had expected to haggle until Zirowan was dry. If he parted with fifteen thousand credits so easily, surely he could afford to spend even more.

Zirowan returned, leading Leela by the hand. "Say goodbye, Leela!" he said brightly as they passed.

"Goodbye!" said Leela happily. She had already packed her things. The vacc tube request had been a guise.

"Now 'old on a minute—" Tarkay began, but the door had already shut behind them.

"What's the matter? Good riddance," Tarkay's wife huffed.

"We can still squeeze more credits out of 'im!" Tarkay cried, dropping the sack and throwing on a coat. "Fetch my blaster rifle, woman!"

"You're goin' to chase 'im with your gun? You're out o' your mind," she snorted. "Do that an' you'll scare 'im into givin' back the kid. Don't press our luck."

"Oh, come off it, I _always_ press our luck an' it _always_ works out," he retorted as he dashed to fetch his rifle. "Now where's that bloody gun?"

Tarkay's wife waded halfway through the tables and pretended to check outside. "It's no use. 'E's gone. Probably took a speeder."

"Poodoo!" Tarkay spat from the other room. "Well, I suppose fifteen thousand'll 'ave to be enough."

"I'm just glad she's gone," his wife muttered. "One less extra mouth to feed."

Tarkay rolled his eyes as the baby started wailing from the other room. "_One_ less."


	9. Hide

Leela walked with "Zirowan" through the night, clutching his hand tightly. "Mr. Narcom, why are we looking for a spaceport? Where's your ship?"

"I left it behind when I came to get you," he replied. "I don't want it traced back to me. This is a new life for both of us."

"Mr. Narcom," Leela asked nervously, "are we doing something illegal? Is the Empire going to send stormtroopers after us?"

"No, Leela, what we're doing isn't illegal," Com smiled. "The Empire is looking for me because I did something wrong when I was younger, but I did it for a very good reason. Did you ever steal from the Tarkays when they starved you?"

"Yes, sir," Leela nodded emphatically. "Sometimes I got caught and they would lock me in my room."

"Well, that's what happened to me," said Com. "But I didn't steal for myself. I was hungry, but I had a little niece, exactly your age. She was even skinnier than you are. She was going to die if I didn't get her something to eat."

"What did you steal?" she asked.

"A couple of meilooruns."

"What are those?"

"You wouldn't find them on Monderon, not at a decent price, at least," Com waved. "Climate doesn't suit them. I grew up on Hugo Minor. They're common there, although not indigenous."

"What does indigenous mean?" asked Leela.

"It means it's where something comes from," Com explained. "You're a Twi'lek. Twi'leks are indigenous to Ryloth. I'm a human. Humans are indigenous to Coruscant. Well, they were at first. Me, I have Corellian blood in my veins mostly, but that's beside the point."

"Are we going to Coruscant?"

Com laughed. "Absolutely not. I don't know where we're going, but it's not there. That's where the Emperor lives. He probably doesn't even know I exist, but I don't want to take my chances. Do you?"

Leela shook her head meekly. After a while, the girl asked, "Mr. Narcom? Now that my mama is gone... are you going to be my papa?"

Com smiled and scratched her head. "Yes, Leela. That's why I came and got you."

Leela beamed and hummed a little tune to herself. A tear came to Com's eye.

"Ah, there it is. The spaceport."

Com frowned. There was a police trooper patrol that hadn't been there when he'd arrived.

Two of the troopers approached him. "Excuse me, sir. We're going to need some identification."

"Of course." Com reached into his jacket pocket. The two troopers dropped as he stunned them both in quick succession. He grabbed Leela's hand and bolted as the other troopers took notice.

Leela looked back terrified as they turned street corners. Com searched frantically for a place to hide. He spotted a door with a mythosaur emblem painted above it. He rushed to it and found the activation panel was coded. Quickly, he took out a slicing stick and beamed it at the lock. The hacking instrument buzzed and the door opened with a beep.

Com ducked inside and found a blaster rifle pointed in his face. "Who are you?" barked a white-lekked Mandalorian woman in black and white armor.

"I need a place to hide," Com hissed.

The helmeted riflewoman took one look at Leela and quickly pressed the button to shut the door. "How did you get in here?"

Com held up his slicing tool.

The Mandalorian snatched it. "Outsiders are not allowed through the back door."

"It's an emergency," Com replied pleadingly.

"Come with me. Cover your eyes. Both of you." The Mandalorian took Com's hand and led him through the corridors.

Com heard whispers as they passed blindly by the sanctuary's other inhabitants. _Aruetiise__,_ they whispered. _Adiik._

Com heard a door close behind him. "You can open your eyes."

Com found himself in a room with a table and chairs. He gestured to the seats behind the desk, and the Mandalorian nodded. Com and Leela sat. The Mandalorian woman stood next to the chair in front of them and lifted her hands to her head. The sides of her helmet unhinged with a hiss as she removed it. The Twi'lek Mandalorian placed her helmet on the desk. "Talk."

"I've been tasked with the care of this little one," said Com. "I'm a fugitive from the Empire. The police are looking for me as we speak. What is this place?"

"This is a Mandalorian sanctuary," the woman replied. "We take mercenary commissions from this room. Outsiders are only allowed in this room and the lobby."

Com snapped his fingers. "The Vod'tsad be Ver'verde. This is your headquarters. Of course! I know Buir Aka."

The Mandalorian furrowed her brow. "Buir Aka is away on business. She may not return for several days."

"Does the name Aberon Halmath sound familiar to you?"

The Mandalorian folded her arms. "You can't expect me to be that stupid. You're not the minister. Why would the police be chasing you, and what are you doing with the child?"

"I told you, her mother charged me on her deathbed to ensure her safety," Com replied, gritting his teeth. "And as of a few hours ago, I am no longer prime minister of Montal. I _need_ to speak with Buir Aka."

The Mandalorian glanced at Leela's bony frame. "Well, first thing we need to do is get that child some nourishment."


	10. Sanctuary

When Com was allowed to open his eyes again, he found himself in a kitchen. "Normally," said the Mandalorian, "we don't bring outsiders here. But it's not necessarily forbidden. Don't leave this room."

As the Mandalorian left, Com rested his elbows on a counter while Leela sat on a stool. It was a simple kitchen; small and homely. A keg sat humming in the corner, tendrils of dry ice seeping slowly from the lid. Com wondered where the patrol troopers were and whether they might try and force their way into the sanctuary to investigate. As far as he knew, nobody had seen him slip into the building. It was late at night and unlike bustling Montal, the streets were deserted after dark.

The Mandalorian returned, and with her a familiar-looking old Rodian. "Vod Koodo will see to it that you are fed."

"Minister Halmath!" the Rodian cried. "Is that really you?"

"Koodo!" Com grinned. "How's Mando life?"

"I've never felt better!" Koodo exclaimed. "I cannot thank you enough for this arrangement. I never knew wearing armor every day could be so comfortable. Of course, I usually wear an apron over it, but..." He stopped as he noticed Leela for the first time. "And who is this? H'chu apenkee, little one!"

"H'chu apenkee," Leela replied with a shy smile.

"Koodo, this is Leela," said Com. "I've adopted her."

"Oh, da sa wonduba!" Koodo clasped his hands. "You have taken a... Haku hoohah settah...? A foundling."

The Mandalorian woman nodded to Koodo and left the room. "We must fill you up, young one, you look as thin as a treskling," said Koodo, opening a cupboard. "Fortunately, I always keep uj cakes on hand." He handed Leela a cake from the plate. "Careful. It's sticky."

Leela's mouth engulfed half the cake in one bite. "Hangh hoo, Wr. Hooho."

Com took one of the cakes, patting Leela's back to make sure she didn't choke. Koodo beamed at him with admiration. "Did you know Minister Halmath saved my life, Leela?"

"Nobaffa, Mfr. Kootho," Leela replied, wide-eyed as she swallowed the rest of her cake.

"You know, those medical droids work wonders, Minister," Koodo remarked, tapping his thigh armor. "I thought I would never walk again after that horrible accident, but I walk better with these legs than I did when I was twenty, as long as I take my medication. The... Oh, baatu, da chuda? Du droi parchee... Kava u settah... You know. The mechanical things. They do all the work." The servos in his leg braces whirred as he bent and unbent his knee.

Leela stuck her fingers in her mouth to lick the syrup off her hand as she reached for another cake with the other.

"What brings you to the sanctuary, Minister?" asked Koodo.

"_That_ is a very long story," Com replied. "Suffice it to say I'm a wanted man."

"Inkabunga!" Koodo gasped. "You? What ever could you have done?"

"Does it matter?" Com sighed. "It's the Empire. But for the record, recently, I've been exposed as a fraud."

"You are no fraud, Minister," said Koodo seriously. "You're one of the best humans I have ever met."

The Twi'lek Mandalorian returned. "I was able to get you in touch with Buir Aka." She placed a holocommunicator on the counter and the image of a Mandalorian in a fur cloak flickered to life.

"Minister Halmath," said Buir Aka. "I'm told this is important."

"Su cuy'gar, Tsad Buir," Halmath nodded, giving the standard Mandalorian greeting. "I must apologize for intruding on your sanctuary. I've been forced out of my position as prime minister."

"Choy?" Koodo gasped. "That cannot be true!"

"I'm afraid it is," said Com grimly. "Now the police are searching for me, and I have been tasked with the care of this child, Leela."

Leela waved shyly to the hologram.

"We cannot refuse asylum to a caregiver in need," said the clan mother. "You may stay with us, under our protection, until such time as you see fit to leave."

Com gasped. "That's much too generous, Tsad Buir. We only need to hide until we can obtain passage offworld."

"Oh, but you _must_ stay, Minister!" Koodo implored. "You will be safe here! Leela will receive an education and the Vod'tsad will provide for your every need!"

"If Leela is to receive an education here," said the Twi'lek, "it is to be a Mandalorian education. You must both consent to this."

"Leela, do you want to go to Mandalorian school?" Com asked slowly.

Leela stared at the Twi'lek Mandalorian. "Yes, Papa."

"Do you, being as her father, agree to allow your child to receive a bajur under the tutelage of the Vod'tsad?" asked Buir Aka.

"Yes." Com swallowed a lump in his throat.

"How old are you, child?" asked the Twi'lek Mandalorian.

"Ten," said Leela hesitantly.

"Do you know your date of birth?"

"Yes."

"When you are thirteen, you must decide whether you will take the Creed," said the Mandalorian. "You will wear armor, learn the Mandalorian language, and defend the Vod'tsad. Do you understand?"

Leela nodded.

"We must give you a place to sleep." The Twi'lek Mandalorian took Leela's hand and led her away.

"And what about you, Minister?" asked Koodo. "Will you take the Creed as well?"

Com thinned his lips. "Perhaps."


	11. Apollon

**0 BBY; Maitre-Tokare, Pasir.**

Maitre-Tokare was, without question, one of Pasir's finest cities. From the great interplanetary communications tower, to the steeples of the Grand Library, and the tops of every single high-rise apartment and industry center, Maitre-Tokare was a city of spires. But even more grand than Tokare's many towers was the river that ran from Pasir's south pole halfway to the north in one great spiral, and every Pasirian agreed that Maitre-Tokare was built on the finest stretch of it.

On a busy street, several miles from the river, speeders cruised and repulsorcarts pulled goods down the road. Apollon Kondric, a university student and admiral's son, made his way toward Alderaan Park, whistling a song from an opera he couldn't get out of his head. A bookbag was slung over his shoulder, filled with holobooks and datapads. He spotted a Weequay walking down the street and went up to him. "Excuse me, sir."

"There's no trouble at all," replied the Weequay amicably. "What can I do for you?"

"Is your name Tarkay?"

"No it isn't," said the Weequay, doffing his helmet. "My name is Hondo Ohnaka. _The _Hondo Ohnaka."

"Never heard of you," Apollon replied.

"Impossible! I'm very notorious," Ohnaka insisted. "There's no way you've never heard of the infamous Hondo Ohnaka! The pirate scourge of the Outer Rim! _I_ am a _legend_ of the Clone Wars!"

"My father was a veteran of the Clone Wars," said Apollon, shrugging.

"Oh! I see." Ohnaka stroked his frill. "Was he a Jedi?"

Apollon shook his head. "No, he was a soldier."

"A clone trooper?" Ohnaka furrowed his brow. "I must say, you don't much look like Jango. Were you adopted?"

"No," Apollon explained. "He was a volunteer."

"Ah! Well, I wouldn't know him then." Ohnaka shook his head with a smile. "I hope you find this… Tarkay fellow you're looking for."

"Thanks," Apollon grinned. "Have a good day, sir."

"And you as well, my friend!" Hondo grinned back, sauntering away.

Apollon continued on his way, wondering if he would ever meet the heroic Weequay that had saved his father's life. He was a little embarrassed to ask the name of every single Weequay he met, but then again, that was how he'd made one of his best friends.

As he was walking, he saw another Weequay running up to him, this one a boy of eight, barefoot and wearing an old pilot's helmet. "'Ey Pollon!"

"Qualdo!" Apollon waved. "What's up?"

"Onjol wants you to be at Khojaw's at 1200," said Qualdo. "Don't be late!"

"Thanks, Qualdo," replied Apollon. "Have a couple creds."

Qualdo held out his hand and Apollon dropped ten credits in it. "Thanks!" Qualdo saluted.

"Don't let the bucketheads get you," Apollon whispered.

Qualdo winked and dashed off.

* * *

Apollon sat on a bench, sketching the birds that hopped and waddled through the park. As finished a piece and clicked through the drawings saved on his datapad, he realized he was suddenly very bored of birds.

"People," he murmured. "I want to sketch some people."

He pursed his lips as he searched for a suitable subject.

Apollon frowned. A lot of the people in the park were walking around. He needed someone sitting like he was.

He looked at the bench across the reflecting pool. There! Sitting on the bench was a Twi'lek girl and a middle-aged human male in a long green coat. He'd seen them in the park many times before but never been able to work up the courage to approach either of them, especially not the girl. His heart always skipped a few beats whenever he saw her.

He immediately began to scribble an outline with his stylus.

Apollon worked feverishly. A circle for her head, two lines for her lekku. Soon he had sketched her full body, copying the way she sat with her leg crossed and her hands folded. He decided to draw the man as well. He repeated the process. Head, torso, folded arms, outstretched legs.

Now for the faces. He turned his attention back to the girl.

She was looking back at him. Their eyes fixed on each other for what seemed like ages. The girl cocked her head inquisitively and smiled.

Apollon smiled back. She had a beautiful smile.

He made a sign for her to hold still. She raised her eyebrows in understanding and posed so he could draw her face.

Apollon wondered what color her eyes were. He couldn't tell from where he sketched.

"Afternoon, sir," said a patrol trooper's voice behind him, making him jump.

"You drawing or something?" asked the trooper, bending inquisitively over Apollon's shoulder.

"Hm? Oh, yes," Apollon stammered.

"Right on," replied the stormtrooper, nodding. "Whatcha drawing?"

"Those two over there," Apollon pointed.

The man in the coat looked up as the patrol trooper turned to where Apollon was pointing. His expression tensed. He took the Twi'lek's hand and stiffened as if he were ready to bolt at any moment.

Apollon frowned. What was wrong?

"That's a pretty one," the trooper chuckled.

"Yeah," Apollon mumbled.

"You know her?"

"No," Apollon replied. "But I see her here a lot."

"Go on," the trooper encouraged him, slapping his shoulder blade. "Go talk to her."

"No way," Apollon replied, shuddering.

"Alright, I'll get her frequency for you," laughed the trooper. He took a small datapad off his belt started walking over before Apollon could warn against it.

Apollon bit his lip. He'd blown it. He watched the trooper approach the two and ask the girl a question. The man answered. The trooper pointed to Apollon. Apollon waved, feeling as though his brain sinking like a rock as it pushed the blood up into his face. The trooper finished the conversation and returned to Apollon, who was trying not to bury his head in his hands.

"She says her frequency is 805.211.8763," said the trooper. "I think she likes you. You're welcome." He handed Apollon his datapad so he could get it down. Apollon sighed and scribbled the number down in one corner of his unfinished drawing. As the trooper walked away, Apollon looked up. The girl and the man were gone.

It was because of him. He knew it. He kneaded his forehead. Stupid trooper. Stupid him.

He sighed. Maybe, if he called her, he could explain the situation and they might laugh about it, and that would be the beginning of something. He pulled out his imagecaster, rolled up his sleeve and entered the frequency on his wrist comm. After a few beeps, the holoprojector hummed to life.

A confused Gran appeared, dripping and wrapped in a towel. "Kee booda? Yo bana pee hota?"

Apollon hung up and tried not to cry. The frequency was fake. He'd screwed up.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Leela," Com said as he climbed into their speeder. "We can't go back. The Empire will almost _definitely_ put our frequency in a system, and once they realize it's fake they'll be looking for us."

"I just wish I could have given him my _real_ frequency," Leela sighed, strapping herself in. "Why couldn't he have walked over himself instead of that buckethead?"

"Why didn't you?" Com returned. "All those times we went to the park and you never introduced yourself to _him._"

"Well, I just always thought... what if it was just in my head?" Leela bit her lip. "What if he _didn't_ like me and I was just imagining it? And now that I know I was right, I can't ever see him again."

"I'm sorry, jogan, I really am," Com sighed, switching on the thrusters and cruising down the road. "There are plenty of attractive boys on this planet. And the safehouse in Maitre-Surik will be so much nicer than our apartment. You'll love it."

"You're sure they won't find us there?" asked Leela.

"When we get home, we're telling all our neighbors we're moving to Naboo," Com replied. "The Empire will never suspect we've only moved cities, even if they don't believe that cover story."

Leela rested her chin on her fists. "Why didn't I talk to him?"

"Don't beat yourself up," said Com. "You didn't even know him."

Leela sighed. "I wanted to."


	12. The Rebels' Cantina

Khojaw polished a glass as he looked around the cantina. The old Ithorian's gaze did not wander idly; his eyes were constantly turned toward the establishment's sole, small window to his right, or to the entrance where two double doors were currently retracted, signifying the cantina was open for business. His eyes narrowed as a Red Nikto sauntered into the bar. But the Nikto simply approached the counter, said "Bo yatooni boska, kolka," and, when the bartender had filled his glass, took it and sat near the window with his back to the rest of the room, pulling up a sports holo on his imagecaster and taking no notice of the group in the darkest corner of the room. Huddled around the sabacc table were a Wookiee, a Mandalorian, and three young men— one black with red hair, one dark-haired with hologlasses, and one red-nosed with a dirty blond mop.

"I have news from the Alliance," said Onjol excitedly, his dark face illuminated by the white glow of the tabletop. "Lothal's been liberated!"

"Liberated?" asked Dunn, scratching his uncombed head. "As in, no longer under Imperial control?"

"Yes, Dunn, the Imps fled the system!" Onjol replied giddily. "Lothal is a free planet!"

"Hooray for Lothal!" cheered Haldo, his face illuminated by the tiny diagrams in his spectacles. Shorkkata roared and shook his shaggy fist in celebration.

"I don't get it," Dunn frowned. "How can a planet be free from Imperial control? The Empire controls everything."

"I know Dunn doesn't actually care about overthrowing the Empire," said Parjai, the dim light glinting off his helmet, "but I'm with him on this one. They're not going to keep Lothal for long. The Empire's going to send another fleet and take it right back."

"Parjai, don't you see?" asked Onjol, leaning in with his face lit up. "If Lothal can shake off the Imperials, so can Pasir!"

"If we get rid of the Imps, does that mean I won't have to take any more astrophysics classes?" asked Dunn.

"Whatever you want, Dunn," Onjol sighed. "But we need something to rally the citizens if we're going to stage a revolt. We need some big event."

Shorkkata growled a suggestion.

"Nah, not that," Haldo waved. "That wouldn't generate nearly enough support."

"Hey," said Parjai, jerking his helmeted head. "We've got a latecomer."

Apollon shuffled up to the table and sat between Haldo and Shorkkata.

"Me'vaar ti gar, slowpoke?" Parjai chuckled.

"Same as ever," Apollon sighed.

Shorkkata grunted with concern.

"Nothing, Shork," Apollon waved. "What did I miss?"

"Lothal's been liberated, apparently," Dunn replied.

"Good for them," said Apollon. "I'll be right back."

Apollon went and ordered a drink. When he sat back down, Haldo folded his arms. "Come on, Pol. We know something's wrong. Tell us what's up."

Apollon sighed. "I blew it. I ruined everything."

"What are you talking about?" asked Dunn. "Details!"

"You know that girl from the park?" Apollon said, staring into his glass.

"Yeah," said Haldo. "Did you finally talk to her? Did you ask her out? Did she turn you down?"

"Worse," Apollon groaned. "She gave me a fake frequency and I didn't even ask for it myself."

"_How?_" Dunn exclaimed, throwing his arms above his head. "How does that _happen?_"

"Well, this buckethead decided to get her frequency for me," Apollon muttered. "Even though I didn't _ask_ him to. He just walked right up. When he came back, she left, and I found out the frequency was fake."

"Aw, man," Haldo groaned. "Bucketheads ruin everything."

"It was _my_ fault," said Apollon miserably. "I should have stopped him. I mean, you know how creeped out she must've been? No wonder she left. She'll probably start avoiding me now. She gave me a fake frequency."

"Aw, Pol, that's not fair at all," Haldo shook his head, patting him on the back. "I'm sorry."

"We're all sorry," said Onjol, "but we kind of have bigger things to discuss right now."

"That's right," said Parjai. "If we're planning an uprising our strategy can't be half-baked."

Shorkkata roared in agreement and added a question.

"Hiding our sympathies is the _least_ of our problems," Onjol waved. "We can keep this rebel thing a secret from our professors indefinitely. You've got a point, Jai, we do need to tighten this plan. Any suggestions?"

"Allies will be crucial," said Parjai. "We need numbers. I mean, how many people are in this little treason club, anyway, besides us... senior members? Twenty? Thirty?"

"Twenty-seven, not counting Horan," said Onjol.

"And how many of them are students?" asked Parjai, folding his arms. "You kids haven't seen battle. Shork and I have. It's no blurrg rodeo."

"Twenty-one," said Onjol. "The rest are civilians. Khojaw has some experience, and so does Kup Kup."

"Right. We're not going to win this if all we have are neverde," said Parjai. "I can request the help of my clan and possibly others. We could also use Saw Gerrera's band on our side if we're careful not to let them go crazy."

"Horan can put me in touch with the Cloud-Riders, and Enfys can put me in touch with Saw," said Onjol. "We can recruit the Partisans and Cloud-Riders both. As for the Alliance, they'll send what they can spare. I've already discussed it with them at length. The Beluga cell is willing to lend their assistance. And I've heard that Hondo Ohnaka is planetside. He was there at Lothal. If I can get in contact with him again he might be willing to help."

"I bumped into him this afternoon!" said Apollon, smacking his forehead. "I could have invited him to this meeting."

"Can we recruit those bird-looking guys over there?" asked Dunn, pointing to four tough-looking, beaked black and white beings waddling up to the bar, all sort of arsenal strapped to their squat little bodies.

"They look like they're going to rob the place," said Apollon, furrowing his brow.

"Nah, they're just ordering drinks, see?" Dunn pointed. "Can I talk to them?"

"Be discreet," Onjol cautioned. "They don't look like Imperial sympathizers, but you can't be too careful."

"Careful's my middle name," said Dunn, walking over to the avian quartet as he juggled a crystal shot glass.

"Outside allies are good," said Parjai as Dunn sat down with the bird people, "but we'll need lots of planetside support, not just from the members of our secret society. Can't kick the Empire off if the people don't want to."

"We could attack on the eve of Empire Day," Haldo suggested.

"Hm. Disrupting the celebration will sure tick off the Imps," said Onjol. "I think you're onto something, Hal. That would give us a month to prepare."

Shorkkata roared and Parjai nodded. "Sounds like a plan."


	13. Portia

**One standard month later.**

The apartment complex on Eckhart Street was, in a word, a dump. It was at least two hundred years old, had no balconies, and was considerably taller than the flats around it, making the grey, nine-story building stick out almost literally like a sore thumb. In a one-room apartment on the eighth story, with his desk pushed up against the wall-spanning window, Apollon plodded on his law assignment, trying to put the girl from the park out of his mind. She'd stopped coming ever since the incident, and it had been a month now. He'd screwed up worse than he'd thought, and it was painful to contemplate.

He stood and paced the room, mentally reviewing the presentation he was going to give in a few days. Anything to get his mind off his agonizing mistake.

Apollon heard a knock at his door and walked over answer it. Standing in the corridor was Portia, the Weequay girl who lived next door in the adjacent room. "'Ello, Pollon."

"Hey Port," said Apollon, grinning. "Come on in."

"'Ow you doin'?" Portia smiled as she walked inside. She adjusted her blue headband and tugged her baggy soiled tunic over her shoulder.

"Same as usual," Apollon sighed, flapping his lips. "School's been keeping me pretty busy. You?"

"I'm gettin' by," she shrugged.

"Your dad found a job yet?"

"Er... 'e's lookin'," Portia lied. "'Ow's your dad?"

"He's good," Apollon replied, walking over to his desk. "The sector's been pretty quiet so his fleet doesn't have much to do."

"Say, what's that 'olo you've got pulled up?" Portia raised a leathery eyebrow and walked over to his desk where graphs and legal documents hovered and hummed. "Uni assignment?"

"Yeah, a presentation on tariffs," said Apollon. "I've got a report due this week."

Portia thinned her lips, nodding, wishing she could afford the education necessary to understand the paragraphs and charts on the hologram. "So that's like, with money an' stuff?"

"Yeah, you know, different ways the Empire tells people they can trade things," Apollon replied. "The regional governors want to encourage more planetside production, so they tax offworld imports and make them more expensive so people buy locally instead."

"That looks very complicated," Portia said, her face illuminated in blue as her eyes flicked around Apollon's diagrams. "You're smart, you know that, Pollon."

"Aw, thanks, Port," Apollon smiled. "So what brings you here?"

"Well, to tell you the truth," said Portia, fiddling with one of her braids, "my family's a bit short on credits. Rent's overdue again."

"Oh!" said Apollon. "I'm afraid I've only got thirty creds on me right now, but I can stop by the bank later today and get you a couple more. How much do you need?"

"Just enough to keep the landlady off our backs," Portia replied.

"I'll drop off fifty credits this afternoon," Apollon smiled, taking a handful of credits from his pocket and pressing them into Portia's hand. "Meantime, you take these. Get yourself something nice. Any holos you want to see?"

"Oh," Portia mumbled, taking the credits. "Um... 'ave you seen _Stupid Loaded Pantorans_?"

"Heard good things about it," Apollon replied.

"Would you want to see it with me sometime?" she asked tentatively.

"Sure, sounds good," he shrugged. "I really have to get back to my schoolwork, but you're welcome to stick around."

Portia laid down on Apollon's couch and flapped her lips. Apollon was silent, engrossed in his work. Portia lifted her head and craned her neck to peer over the sofa. "You alright, Pollon?"

"Hm? Oh. Yeah," Apollon mumbled unconvincingly.

Portia sat up, concerned. "I 'aven't seen you much about lately. You're always shut up in 'ere when you're not at school. Somethin' wrong?"

"Nah, Port, it's stupid," Apollon sighed, waving it away. "Don't worry about it."

"You sure?" Portia bit her lip. "I worry about you, Pollon, livin' alone like this."

"I'm fine, Portia, really."

Portia sighed. "Alright."

Portia laid back down on the couch. Apollon was probably still hung up on that girl he'd been interested in for the past eight months. Her lip curled as she tried not to think about it. Apollon would never yearn for her like he pined for that girl. A girl he barely knew, a girl he'd never even talked to, a girl who'd run from him, never to be seen again. A girl who was pretty, with smooth skin that wasn't the color of mud. How could a Weequay ever hope to compete with a Twi'lek? Portia was ugly and boring like a Monderonian potato. Apollon liked Portia— Quay only knew why, as far as she was concerned— but she wasn't and would never be his type.

She saw a small stack of plastic rectangles on Apollon's caf table next to a marker. She picked one up. "What are these?"

"Hm?" Apollon looked over his shoulder. "Magnotes. I put reminders on them."

Portia looked around the room and at the stack of blank chips. "I don't see any reminders."

"Yeah, well..." Apollon sighed, turning back to his work.

Portia bit her lip. She looked at the magnote in her hand and turned it over to the magnetic side. "Seem pretty 'andy. Can I 'ave a few?"

"Help yourself," Apollon invited.

Portia slid five cards off the stack and put them in her lap. She took the pen and pursed her thin lips. If Apollon wouldn't write reminders for himself, she'd leave a few for him. What was his daily routine like?

Portia looked over at him. His hair was a mess. But then again, she kind of liked it that way.

"When you think you want to see that 'olo, Pollon?"

"I don't know," Apollon shrugged. "Next week?"

Portia scribbled "Holo with Portia, nekst week."

What else? She thought of Apollon's charming smile and wrote "Cleen teeth."

She chewed her lip thoughtfully and wrote, "Watch owt for buckit heds." She knew Apollon didn't get into as much trouble with the Imperials as she did, but maybe he could still use the reminder.

Portia frowned. She knew she'd misspelled something. Spelling was easier and more forgiving in Huttese. If only Apollon could read it.

"Dohnt be layt for class," she wrote after awhile. One more thing. What to write?

Portia looked back at Apollon again. He had taken a break from studying and was now resting his head morosely on his desk.

"Aw, Pollon..." Portia murmured. She scribbled a message on the last card.

"Its going too be okay." She drew a little heart under the message and wrote a P next to it.

Portia looked over at Apollon. He was working again and seemed to have forgotten she was even there.

Portia bit her lip, looked at the heart, and erased it with her thumb. She left the magnotes on the table, went to the door, and pressed the button to open it. She looked back. "You know, Pollon... I'm 'ere for you if you need me."

"I know, Port," said Apollon. "Thank you, Port. You're a good friend."

Portia sighed and left the room.


	14. The Philanthropist

Apollon stared out the window. He had polished his presentation a long time ago. Now there was nothing to distract him from his dismal mood. He wished Portia were still there, now that he had time to chat with her.

He sat down on his sofa and saw that Portia had written reminders on a few of his magnotes. He smiled and picked one up. _Dohnt be layt to class_.

He sighed and kneaded his forehead. Portia was right. He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and take charge of his life again.

He glanced at the other notes. The one about the bucketheads made him chuckle. "Thank you, Portia."

He looked at the magnotes and slipped them into his pocket so he could look at them when he was feeling down again and remember someone cared.

He heard a speeder approaching. He went to the window. The speeder parked on the block opposite the apartment and the two passengers disembarked. With a thrill, Apollon realized one of them was a Twi'lek.

Surely not.

As they got closer, he recognized them just as they disappeared into the building. His suspicions were confirmed. His heart began to race. Should he rush downstairs and talk to them, try to smooth things over, introduce himself?

His heart skipped a beat when he heard the lift ding on his floor.

Apollon heard the Banquos' apartment door open. "Come in, Mr. Elmor, come in," drawled Portia's father. "Welcome to our… ahem… _exceedingly_ 'umble abode."

The Banquos' door shut. Apollon had forgotten how to breathe. She was right there! Right next door! Should he wait at the door and introduce himself? No. He couldn't afford to come on too strong.

What were they doing in there? He pressed his ear to the wall and tried to make out their conversation.

His neighbors' words were only a buzz. If only they were talking just a bit louder, he'd be able to understand them. From the tone, Banquo was giving a tour of their apartment. The man's voice— Elmor's— remarked in between Banquo's dialogue. The rest of his family seemed silent, though he wondered if they were the ones making the occasional loud sniffle.

Suddenly, the door whooshed open again. "Well, I think I have quite a good idea of what your living situation is like," said Elmor. "I'll be back in two hours with a donation."

"Oh, _thank you,_ sir," said Banquo. "You are the kindest man I've ever met."

"We're quite indebted to you," his wife chimed.

"Zalq smiles upon your generosity," said Desdemona, Portia's older sister.

"Quay bless you, sir," Portia added.

"Yes, _thank you_," said Elmor, his tone suggesting he had just yanked his hand away out of Banquo's enthusiastic shake. "I have other people to visit and donate to. Goodbye."

The Banquos' door whooshed shut and Apollon quickly pressed the button to shut his own. He didn't dare go out so soon.

They were going to come back. He could explain himself!

He furrowed his brow. What about the girl? What if the father came alone?

He wanted to talk to the girl, one on one. He had to apologize in person.

Suddenly, an idea came to him.

He opened his door, dashed out, and knocked on the Banquos' door. Desdemona answered it. "Can I talk to Portia?" he asked.

"Apollon!" Portia was at the door before Apollon could even blink. "'Ow are you?"

"Good, good, good, good, good," said Apollon impatiently. "Listen, I need you to do me a favor. Can I talk to you alone?"

Portia stepped out of her apartment and into Apollon's. "What is it?"

"That girl that was just here," said Apollon urgently, "What's her name?"

"She didn't say," Portia frowned. "Why?"

"Can you find out? Can you set us up?" asked Apollon breathlessly, clutching her hands. "She's the girl from the park! I can have a second chance!"

Portia's eyes widened.

"If she comes back, can you introduce me?" asked Apollon.

"Um... yeah," she stammered.

"Great! And if she doesn't, can you get her address for me?" Apollon was shaking with excitement.

"Sure, I can do that," Portia murmured, casting her eyes down.

"Thank you!" Apollon hugged Portia tight. "You're the best, Portia, I love you!"

Portia returned his embrace, absolutely miserable. "Anything for you, Pollon," she murmured.

As Portia left the apartment, Apollon punched the air and resisted the urge to sing. He felt full of new life.

Banquo's loud voice interrupted his thoughts. "Of course it's _our_ Leela! 'Ow many 'uman men do you see with Twi'lek daughters named Leela? I'm telling you, 'e's the one 'oo stole 'er from us. I'd recognize 'im anywhere."

Apollon stopped. What did Banquo say?

"What are we goin' to do about it?" asked Banquo's wife. "'E's not goin' to give 'er back to us!"

Apollon couldn't believe what he was hearing. That poor girl wasn't Elmor's daughter after all! She was a prisoner!

"I'll tell you what we're goin' to do about it," Banquo growled. "I'm goin' to get the boys, an' when 'e comes back, we'll grab 'im an' _make_ 'im give 'er back."

Apollon rapped on the Banquos' door. Banquo opened it. "We're busy! What do you want?"

"I overheard you talking," said Apollon urgently. "Did that man kidnap your daughter?"

"Kidnap 'er, by Am-shak!" Banquo growled. "'E's the one 'o's led us to this ruin! 'E took _everything_ from us!"

"I'll run to the police station," Apollon said.

"'Old it!" Banquo snapped, yanking his arm. "You leave the cops _out_ o' this, boy, do you hear? Me an' my pals can 'andle it just fine. You wannoo 'elp?"

Apollon nodded.

"Then _don't interfere_," he hissed, letting go of Apollon. "You'll bring the Imps into this and the 'ole thing's fierfeked."

The door whooshed shut. Apollon stood there for a moment, then he ran. There was no way he was leaving this to Banquo alone.


	15. The Bust

"He has wild grey hair with sideburns," said Apollon to the inspector. "And he wears a big green coat. He's a big guy."

"And the girl?" the inspector replied, raising her eyebrow.

"Teal skin, dark blue tunic," said Apollon. "She looks about eighteen, nineteen."

The inspector jotted down some notes on her datapad. "And these neighbors of yours, what do you know about them?"

"They're poor," said Apollon. "They used to be better off. Banquo told me this Elmor guy is the reason they're poor? I've only been inside their house a few times. I don't know them super well, except for the youngest daughter, we're good friends."

"What do you think 'the boys' could be referring to?" asked the inspector.

"I don't know," said Apollon. "Only that they're going to help them get Leela back. That's the name he said, the girl's name."

The inspector thinned her lips. "I see."

Apollon squirmed. He was beginning to regret his decision. The Imperial police were notoriously xenophobic. But he didn't know who else could deal with a dangerous man like Elmor. "I've known these Weequays a long time. They're good people. They need your help."

"When did you say this Elmor would be returning?" the inspector inquired.

"In two hours," said Apollon. "Er... in about an hour and fifteen minutes now."

"There isn't much time," said the inspector, rising from her seat. She pulled a comlink out of her desk drawer and tossed it to him. "Take this. Come with me."

* * *

Apollon ran into the building. His heart was pounding furiously as he entered the lift, the police comlink burning in his pocket. He reached his own floor and crept toward the Banquos' door. He took the comlink out of his pocket and put his ear to the wall.

"Oto myo makacheesa, Tarkay."

Tarkay? Apollon's eyes widened.

"You'll _get_ your cut," Banquo snarled. "Just as soon as the missus gets back with the address."

"You won't get away with this," said Elmor calmly.

"Oh, yeah? Whatcha gonna do?" Banquo scoffed. "Go to the Imps?"

"And get you arrested for extortion and kidnapping?" Elmor replied. "Don't think I won't."

"Can't go running to the cops if you're dead," retorted another voice.

"If you harm my daughter—" Elmor threatened.

"I've got daughters, too, you know!" Banquo shouted. "I spent eight bloody years tryin' to provide for my own flesh an' blood with that 'ussy's _brat_ to take care of. Well, now you're goin' to pay."

"I already paid," Elmor hissed. "You made me give you 15,000 credits to adopt her."

"Well, you're goin' to pay some more," Banquo hissed back. "Nobody cheats Magnus Tarkay out of 'is due."

Apollon's head was reeling. Banquo was the man who'd saved his father, all along. Banquo was an alias. Leela wasn't their daughter?

"She'll never go back to you," said Elmor.

"He _tell_ you, stoopa," said a thickly accented voice. "Nobody going back to anybody. We shoot you both."

Apollon gasped.

"What was that?" growled another voice.

Apollon made a dash for his apartment. The Banquos' door whooshed open. He felt himself yanked by the scruff of his tunic by an enormous hand and lifted off the ground. "Well, there," growled a Lasat with rancid breath. "Do come in."

Apollon was thrown onto the Banquos' floor. "You!" Tarkay gasped.

Apollon looked around the room. Elmor was on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back, his coat on the floor. A Toydarian was pointing a blaster at his head. A muscular Dug and a gangly human stood watching the windows.

Apollon swallowed. "Where's the rest of your family?"

"Well, the girls were _supposed_ to warn us about little spies like you," Tarkay growled. "Which way did you come from?"

Apollon stared in speechless terror. How could they do this? He trusted them! These were his friends! He'd defended them!

Tarkay picked up his comlink. "Mona, did you see the neighbor kid come in?"

"No," Desdemona replied. "It's all clear over here."

Tarkay growled. "Port, we've got an eavesdropper. It's your little friend. Did you see 'im come in?"

There was no answer.

"Port? Portia! Answer me, damn you!" Tarkay snarled and shoved the comlink in his pocket. "Agh! Playin' 'ooky again! This is the _last time,_ dammit. When she shows 'er sorry 'ide again... I'll teach _'er_ to go soft."

Apollon's eyes widened. Go soft? Had Portia deserted? He hoped with everything he had his friend was still the same Weequay he knew.

"Can I shoot him?" asked the Lasat, unslinging his bowcaster.

"Wait! Wait!" said Apollon, throwing his hands in front of his face. "Port _sent_ me!"

"She _what?_" Tarkay grunted.

"Yeah!" said Apollon, thinking fast. "She told me to warn you the bucketheads are coming!"

"The bucket'eads?" Tarkay roared. "'Oo tipped 'em off? Was it you, you little rat?"

"No, it wasn't, I swear!" Apollon cowered.

"_I_ did," said Elmor.

Everyone whirled around on the prisoner.

"I'm not stupid, Tarkay," said Elmor. "I figured you would try to extort me. Why do you think I didn't bring Leela? You think I'd put her in that kind of danger? I called the authorities ahead of time. Let this kid go. He's got nothing to do with this."

"And just how do we know that?" The lanky human furrowed his brow. "How do we know he's not your accomplice?"

"I wasn't involved, I swear," said Apollon. "Portia sent me here just now to warn you." Suddenly, something clicked in his brain. "I have the message right here, in her handwriting!"

He fished through his pocket and pulled out the magnote, the marker slightly smeared and speckled with erasures. Tarkay snatched it. "That's Port, alright," he spat. "Poodoo. 'Ow soon do we got, kid?"

"Nobata longa," said the Dug. "Stuka!"

Tarkay rushed to the window. "Fierfek! Everybody clear out!"

"Oh, karabast," groaned the Lasat. "Can I shoot the kid now?"

"Let 'im go!" Tarkay shouted. "Grab the prisoner!"

"I thought we were going to _shoot_ prisoner!" cried the Toydarian.

"Do you want to get paid or not?" Tarkay snapped. "Take 'im with us! As long as we've got the girl 'e'll cough up!"

Suddenly Elmor leapt up, whirling around and punching the Toydarian in the snout. "He's loose!" cried the Lasat, firing his bowcaster. The blast blew a hole in the wall, missing Elmor as he dodged the shot. Blaster fire erupted all around the room. A bowcaster quarrel punched through the window, shattering the glass. Elmor threw his coat over himself. The blaster fire pockmarked it with scorches. Apollon looked around frantically and punched Tarkay in the back as hard as he could.

Tarkay roared and whirled around. "You're dead, kid!"

Apollon grabbed Tarkay's blaster rifle and tried to hold it away from himself. Shots fired over his shoulder as they struggled. Apollon kicked him in the groin and Tarkay dropped his gun, cursing. Apollon dropped it as well; the barrel was burning from use. Quickly, he scrambled to pick it up and club Tarkay over the head with it. He saw Elmor disappear out the window.

The door blew apart, throwing Apollon forward. Patrol troopers poured into the room, blasters blazing. The thugs dropped their weapons and threw their hands up. Apollon panted as a silence fell over the room. It was over.

The squad leader spoke into his comlink. "We have four hostiles in custody."

"The kidnapper?" asked the inspector.

"Escaped," said the trooper.

"Copy that," said the inspector grimly. "Put out an alert."

"The girl!" Apollon cried. "She's still in danger! They have her!"

"No they don't," said the squad leader. "The address was fake. If we want to rescue her, we'll have to catch the guy who escaped."

Apollon caught his breath. Tarkay's wife hadn't found her. She was safe after all.

Suddenly, the Lasat snatched his bowcaster with his foot and rushed forward. He grabbed his gun and whacked troopers out of the way with it. Their blasterfire peppered the ceiling as they were thrown aside. The Lasat disappeared into the hall, his weapon blasting.

"Alert! Alert!" cried the squad leader as troopers rushed after the Lasat. "There is a hairless purple Wookiee on the loose! Capture him at all costs!"

Apollon heard a window smash. Blaster fire rang from below and the sound of a speeder roared into the distance.

"The suspect escaped on an Imperial vehicle," said a trooper on the squad leader's comlink.

"Secure this area," ordered the squad leader. "Take these four into custody. You," he said to Apollon. "The Empire is grateful for your help. Get out of here. This area is no longer safe."

"I need to grab my stuff," Apollon protested. "My school bags are in my apartment next door."

"You can come back for them when the area is secure," said the squad leader. "Escort him out."

Apollon bit his lip and followed a trooper as he led him outside. His head was still spinning.


	16. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have not read [Amber and Idiot's Arrays](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112029) and [Leatherface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118725) already, doing so will give the next few chapters a bigger emotional punch.

Portia sat on the sidewalk, exhausted physically and emotionally. She had done an inordinate amount of walking. She'd followed her mother to Amedda Street and back without her knowing to the nonexistent address. Then she'd gone back to the house, seen her mother arrested and spotted the philanthropist fleeing on foot. Trailing him had led her to 55 Yularen Road. She'd found Leela's house.

She couldn't believe it. After eight years, Leela was back in her life.

If this was the work of the gods, it was a fitting punishment for the way she had bullied Leela as a child. Portia didn't know how her life could get any worse.

She wanted to cry, but she was afraid someone would see her.

Portia looked around. She wasn't going to go back to her apartment until she had to. The place was still crawling with stormtroopers. Her parents had been arrested, along with the gang her father had partnered with. She didn't know if Apollon was still there, or if Desdemona had escaped like she had.

Khojaw's cantina was across the street. Maybe she could use a drink. She sniffled and got up.

Khojaw's was having a quiet day. She quickly scanned the room and saw that Apollon was not there. She sighed with relief and sat down at the counter.

"'Ey, Portia," said Qualdo, who was sitting up at the bar with a glass of milk.

"'Ey, Qualdo," Portia smiled. "'Ow's life?"

"I whipped a guy twice my size," Qualdo said proudly, punching the air. Portia noticed he had a cut on his eyebrow.

"Oh, you poor thing," she said, taking off her headband to dab at the boy's forehead.

"Do you think it'll scar?" Qualdo asked excitedly.

"Probably not," said Portia. "We Weequays are 'ardier than most species."

"I'll say we are," Qualdo beamed. "Even little ones."

Portia smiled. "Especially little ones."

"Hello, Portia," said Khojaw through the translator on top of his neck. "What can I get for you?"

"I don't 'ave anything on me," Portia confessed.

"Since when have I charged you?" Khojaw pointed out.

"Carbon freeze, then," Portia shrugged.

"On the rocks?"

Portia shook her head and the Ithorian nodded and went to prepare it.

"'Ow are things at 'ome?" asked Qualdo, taking a swig from his glass.

"There isn't one anymore," said Portia. "Mum an' Dad just got arrested."

"Figures," Qualdo sighed. "Mona too?"

"I don't know," said Portia quietly.

"Well, you can crash at my place for a while if you need to," said Qualdo. "But _my_ pad, _my_ rules. Don't tell me when to go to bed. You let me stay up _as late as I want._"

Portia sniggered and rubbed the top of his head. "Alright, Qualdo."

Khojaw slid Portia her drink. She nodded gratefully and sighed. "I 'ope Mona's okay."

She glanced out the door as she sipped her carbon freeze. Apollon walked inside, looking shaken.

"Oh no," Portia whispered.

"'Ey, Pollon!" Qualdo waved.

Apollon saw Portia and ran up to her, grabbing her by the arms. "Portia! Thank the Force. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Pollon, yeah," she assured him. "I'm good at dodging the bucket'eads."

"I was so worried you gotten arrested," he said, biting his lip. "Or worse."

"I'm okay, Pollon," said Portia, touching his forearm.

"Were you in on it?" Apollon demanded.

"No!" Portia cried. "I swear, Pollon, I didn't want any part of it! I ran away instead o' watchin' for bucket'eads like Dad told me!"

"Your real name is Tarkay?" Apollon asked urgently.

"Uh... yeah." Portia blinked. "'Ow'd you..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Apollon asked. "My dad's life was saved in the Clone Wars by a Weequay corporal named Tarkay."

"Oh." Portia chewed her lip. "Yeah, 'e told us that story. It didn't 'appen quite like that."

"What do you mean?" asked Apollon.

"'E used to brag about 'ow 'e pulled one over on a chump of a Republic captain in the volunteer division," said Portia. "Thought 'e was dead, went through 'is pockets an' told 'im 'e saved 'is life when the cap woke up. Also, 'e told us 'e was a sergeant."

Apollon sighed. "I can't believe it."

"My dad's a scumbag," said Portia. She sighed and cast her eyes down. "We're all scumbags."

"Nah, Port, you're alright." Qualdo patted his sister's back. "Take it from me, Pollon. She ain't like 'em."

Apollon raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize you two knew each other."

"She's my sister," Qualdo beamed.

Apollon frowned. "Wait, what?"

"It's a long story." Portia chewed her lip. "I found it. The place where she lives. I saw 'er dad an' I trailed 'im to their 'ouse. I can take you there."

Apollon stood with his mouth open. Then he threw his arms around Portia. "Thank you," he whispered thickly.

Portia clung to him, her tears staining his jacket. He patted her back as she shuddered. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Portia, her voice shaking. "They deserved it. I just wish I knew if Mona was okay..."

Qualdo hopped down from his stool and hugged Portia's middle from behind. She smiled and felt a lump in her throat.

"I'll bust 'er out for you," Qualdo whispered, but Portia didn't hear him. He patted her lower back and scampered out of the bar.

Apollon bit his lip. "You going to be alright, Port?"

"I'll be okay," Portia replied, taking a deep breath. "I'll take you to 'er now."

Apollon nodded and let her go. "Lead the way."


	17. Introductions

**Maitre-Surik.**

Maitre-Surik was much more rural than its neighbor. Dirt roads snaked through its green hills, with cottages and farms dotted across the landscape. Apollon wished it were still light out so he could enjoy the beauty of the trees, but the sun had set almost as soon as they'd left the city limits of Maitre-Tokare. The speeder they'd hailed took them to a gated community on the outskirts of the town. They'd walked on foot passing only the occasional mansion until they finally came to 55 Yularen Road.

Apollon trembled as he approached the gate to the front yard. He could see a light in the upstairs window. "Is she home?"

Portia shrugged and looked over her shoulder. A single lamppost illuminated the dark road.

Apollon took a deep breath. "Do you know the code?"

"0226," Portia mumbled.

Apollon punched it in. The gates slid open and, after a pause, he strode up to the front door. Portia did not follow.

Apollon pressed the buzzer.

After a few agonizing moments, the door whooshed open to reveal Leela's father.

"Hello there," said Elmor, furrowing his brow. "So you made it out."

"H-how are you, sir," Apollon stammered. "We got off on the wrong foot."

"We certainly did," Elmor frowned. "I don't much appreciate random stormtroopers asking my daughter's frequency on behalf of random boys."

"I didn't ask him to do that," Apollon said quickly, holding up his hands. "He butted into my personal business. I'm really sorry about that. I should've had the guts to ask myself before someone else did it for me." He chuckled weakly. "At least, before a buckethead did it for me."

Elmor thinned his lips and sighed. "I suppose it was bound to happen anyway. Stormtroopers are a nosy bunch. At any rate, I also suppose I owe you my thanks. I assume you were the one who called the police?"

"Yeah," said Apollon. "You did too?"

Elmor shook his head. "I don't like dealing with Imperials. I lied to cover for you. They were going to shoot you."

"Thanks," Apollon laughed. "You saved my butt."

"We're even on that," Elmor smiled. "What's your name, kid?"

"Apollon."

"How'd you find me?"

"Oh," said Apollon, biting his lip. He glanced back. "Portia found you for me."

"Portia?" Elmor looked over Apollon's shoulder.

Apollon motioned for Portia to come forward. "It's alright, Port."

Timidly, Portia walked up. "'Ello, sir."

"I know you," said Elmor, raising an eyebrow. "You're with them. You were the one I gave my holomail address to."

"Yes, sir," Portia replied, scratching her arm. "I'm sorry we jumped you."

"I really should have seen it coming," said Elmor, shaking his head. "I thought the worst that would happen was your father demanding more credits at blasterpoint. I wasn't expecting to be ganged up on. But from what I understand, you abandoned your post."

"Yes, sir." Portia shuffled her sandaled foot. "I followed my mum to your fake address instead."

"That was brave of you," said Elmor. "Looking out for my daughter. Doing what was right even though you could have been punished."

The blood drained from Portia's face. She swallowed hard. "I didn't do much."

"You did what you could," said Elmor warmly. "And you." He nodded to Apollon. "Contacting the authorities when you learned of their plot to hold me for ransom. My daughter and I are in your debt. You have my respect and my trust."

Apollon flashed back to when he thought Elmor was a dangerous kidnapper. He felt like his ears had burst into flame. "Oh, of course. I couldn't let them do that to you."

Elmor folded his arms. "I suppose you'll be wanting to introduce yourself to my daughter."

"Yes sir," Apollon nodded vigorously.

Elmor smirked. "She'll be happy to see you again. I'll go wake her up."

The door shut.

Apollon grinned and glanced at Portia. She grinned back, her teeth chattering.

"Aw, Port," Apollon chuckled, slipping off his jacket. She accepted it gratefully.

Apollon bounced slightly on the balls of his toes. Portia bit her lip. "Do you mind if I wait over there? To, er, give you some space?"

"Hm? Oh! Sure, thanks, Port," Apollon smiled. "You're the best friend I could ask for. You know that?"

"Yeah," Portia replied. She retreated into the shadows and bit her lip, hiding behind a tree where Leela wouldn't see her.

The door whooshed open and Apollon gasped. Leela's eyes up close were breathtaking.

She smiled. "It's so good to meet you."

"You too," said Apollon.

"I'm Leela."

"Apollon." He held up his hand. She smiled and shook it.

"I didn't think I'd ever get to talk to you," said Leela. She laughed a little. "Now I can't even think of what to say."

"Me either," Apollon laughed nervously. "Um... what's your favorite color?"

"I like brown," said Leela.

"Me too!" said Apollon.

"Yeah, I noticed," said Leela, looking at his pants. "Did you realize your outfit is all khaki?"

"This?" Apollon looked at himself. "No, the pants are like a dark brown and the tunic is kind of an off-white. It's just the vest that's khaki."

"Bantha, tan and cream," Leela replied. "All shades of khaki. Trust me, I know clothes. It's a good look for you."

"You learn something new every day," Apollon laughed. "So, what do you do? Do you go to school?"

"I'm homeschooled," said Leela. "My house is about 50% library. I read a lot and I take Holonet classes. I'm a _big_ history buff. What about you?"

"I go to the IUP," said Apollon. "I'm taking Imperial law, economics, history, and classic literature."

"Wow," Leela snickered. "Our favorite color is brown and we're huge nerds. We are so _boring._"

Apollon laughed. "I say!" he exclaimed, affecting a posh Coruscanti accent.

Leela smiled and sighed. "Seriously, though. Books are amazing." She lowered her voice. "I even like to... write my own stories."

"No way!" Apollon gasped. "That sounds so cool! What kind of stuff do you write about?"

Leela scratched one of her lekku. "Castles and princesses and... Jedi."

"Wow!" Apollon breathed. "How many have you written? Have you gotten any published?"

"Papa won't let me," she laughed quietly. "Jedi stories can get you arrested."

Apollon grinned. "Now I _really_ want to read your stuff."

Leela's earcones flushed. "I'll have to show you sometime."

Apollon smiled and chewed his lip, thinking of something else to say. "Um... I also draw stuff."

"Yeah, I saw that," said Leela. "At the park when you used to sit with your datapad. You literally tried to draw me last time I saw you."

"Oh yeah!" Apollon smacked his forehead. "Right!"

Leela smiled. "I like your haircut."

"Thanks," said Apollon. "I'd grow it longer, but it's against the university code. I like your..." He stopped, realizing that there wasn't really an equivalent compliment to give. "Your smile. It's pretty. Especially when you laugh."

"Awww." She beamed. "That's so nice."

Apollon cleared his throat. "So, uh..." A familiar feeling gripped him as his tongue seized up. "Would you, uh... want to get a... Would you want to... You wanna meet me at Khojaw's sometime?"

"Khojaw's?" Leela cocked her head.

"This old Ithorian buddy of mine runs a cantina in the market district," said Apollon. "I can get you free drinks. You like cream fizzes?"

"Yeah," Leela grinned. "What time are you thinking?"

"Ah..." Apollon thinned his lips, thinking. "Tomorrow morning? 1100?"

"Papa?" Leela called into the house. "Can I go for cream fizzes with Apollon tomorrow at 1100?"

"Of course, Leela," Elmor replied.

Leela squealed. "I can't wait!"

"We can talk about your books!" said Apollon. "Khojaw's is the _perfect_ place for it."

"See you then," Leela grinned, shaking his hand. Apollon sighed happily as the door closed.

He skipped over to the gate. "Port!" He gripped Portia in a spine-crushing hug. "Thank you so much!"

"I'm 'appy for you, Pollon," she replied in the most enthusiastic tone she could muster.

"We're meeting at Khojaw's tomorrow at 1100!" said Apollon.

"That's great, Pollon."

"I couldn't have met her without you, Port," Apollon beamed. "I'm so happy."

"I'm glad, Pollon." She slipped an arm out of the jacket he'd given her.

"Keep it," he smiled. "The color suits you better than me anyway."

Portia caught her breath. That was the closest Apollon had ever come to calling her pretty.

"Hey, Port," asked Apollon, "you gonna be okay? The bucketheads took your house."

"Qualdo's got an old comms tower 'e stays in," said Portia. "I can live there."

"Alright, well, take care of yourself, Port," Apollon admonished, clapping her on the shoulder. "You need me to walk you there? It's dangerous at night. Show me how to get to Qualdo's place."

"That's okay, Pollon," Portia said. "I can 'andle myself. I stay out late all the time."

Apollon smiled. "Alright. See you around, Port."

Portia watched him walk away and let the tear she'd been hiding trickle down her nose. "See you around, Pollon."


	18. The Escaped

The inspector looked up as a black astromech entered her office. The droid beeped and chirped.

Inspector Lam furrowed her brow. "What does he want?"

The droid whistled a reply.

"Put him through."

The droid rotated its head slightly and its projector light came on. There was a hum and the hologram of a man in an Imperial uniform appeared in front of her.

"Inspector Lam," the man nodded.

"Inspector General Koss," Lam replied.

"I am most interested in a report filed by your department." Koss folded his arms.

Lam raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Koss's hologram pressed an invisible button and an image of a man's head appeared in front of him. "This is a facial reconstruction based on the description of an alleged kidnapper you attempted to apprehend."

"Yes," Lam replied. "What about him?"

Another hologram appeared in front of Koss. The report from Lam's department. "'Local citizen Apollon Victor Kondric reported a suspected abductor with a teenage Twi'lek female as his hostage.'"

"An interesting story, perhaps, but I don't see why it should concern an officer of your position," Lam replied, furrowing her brow.

"I am nonetheless intrigued by the suspect's description," said Koss. "The facial reconstruction, despite being inexact and crude, bears resemblance to the disgraced prime minister of Montal, Aberon Halmath."

"As you say, Inspector General, it is crude," Lam insisted. "I believe it is a coincidence."

Koss scowled and and stroked his beard. "Aberon Halmath, otherwise known as the convicted thief, Com Narcom, was 51 standard years of age at the time of his disappearance eight years ago. The suspect is believed to be in his early sixties?"

"That is was Mr. Kondric's assessment, yes," Lam replied.

"Com Narcom would be only a year shy of sixty standard years from his birth date," said Koss, his eyebrow rising. "And accounting for his age..."

Koss pressed another button and the holographic head of the kidnapping suspect aged backward eight years.

"You know what strikes me as interesting, Inspector, is something Narcom claimed he was planning to do before his disappearance," Koss continued. "He invented a story about a Twi'lek woman's child he was duty-bound to retrieve from her current guardians. And now here is a man, matching his description, with a Twi'lek girl linked to him."

"So you believe that Aberon Halmath abducted this girl for some unknown purpose, and decided to hide on _Pasir_ of all planets, posing as her father?" Lam raised an eyebrow. "If you ask me, Com Narcom vanished into the Outer Rim nearly a decade ago, and there was no Twi'lek child. You said yourself you didn't believe his story."

"I didn't," Koss replied. "But now, I just might."

"Well," Inspector Lam huffed. "As I said, the reconstruction is far too crude to be accurately identified as Aberon Halmath or Com Narcom. All we have to go on is one citizen's description."

"And helmet cam footage," Koss added with a raised eyebrow.

Lam cocked her head. "There was no helmet cam footage of the suspect."

"The patrol trooper who filed the report claimed he witnessed the suspect fleeing the scene," Koss insisted.

"His helmet cam was off."

"That is a serious breach of regulation," Koss replied, his brow clouding. "I would hope you would not allow such negligence to occur under your watch. Your officers' behavior reflects on you, and that reflects on me."

Lam gritted her teeth at the veiled threat. "He will be disciplined accordingly. The other troopers' cams were active."

"Send me the footage retrieved from their helmets," Koss ordered. "Then perhaps we will be able to confirm whether this suspect is Com Narcom."

Lam glared at her superior officer. "Of course, Inspector General."

"If he is indeed who I suspect he is," said Koss, "his capture will be most significant. Montal has waited a long time to impeach their fraudulent minister. I will travel to Pasir to personally oversee the investigation if my suspicions are confirmed."

Koss's hologram flickered out, along with the readout of the report and the image of the suspect's computer-generated face. Inspector Lam sat in her chair, clenching her fists. "Get out."

The droid zoomed out of the room as the inspector sat fuming. She had intended to keep her hunch to herself, but of course that report, among hundreds, had to catch the inspector general's eye. Aberon Halmath's discovery and capture, singlehandedly by the troopers under her command, could have earned her a promotion. Now she would be overshadowed by Koss, who would receive an undeserved portion of the credit. And on top of it, he would be obnoxious about following every regulation and protocol the Imperial police were theoretically bound by.

"Damn him," she growled. But there was little she could do. Grudgingly, she pulled up the requested footage to transmit to Koss's office, knowing that within a rotation, he would be planetside.

* * *

Duzavog sat at a table with a Devaronian with sawn-off horns. The hood of his forest-green cowl was pulled low over his purple-whiskered face. His voice was low as they discussed their plan. "I can pay you more after the job. Basta knows where the rest of the stash is. Bring your buckethead suit."

The Devaronian scooped up Duzavog's credits and looked over the Lasat's shoulder. "Who's that?"

Duzavog turned around and saw a prepubescent Weequay in a pilot's helmet walking towards them. He furrowed his brow. "It's just Tarkay's kid. How are you, you little mynock. You're just the guy I wanted to see."

"Hold on," said the Devaronian. "You don't really want this pipsqueak on the job?"

"Yeah, Kharvish, I do," said Duzavog. "Kid's great at slicing doors, aren't you, kid?"

"I can open anything," Qualdo beamed. "You're plannin' a breakout, right?"

"We need a _real_ slicer," Kharvish scoffed. "Let's get Jubio in on this."

"This kid can crawl through any duct you shove him into," said Duzavog.

"So can Jubio."

"'Oo's Jubio?" asked Qualdo.

"He's a buddy of mine," said the Devaronian. "Chadra-Fan. He's an expert. He'll make a better monkey-lizard than you will."

"Chadra-Fan? Poodoo," Qualdo snorted. "You put one o' those in an air shaft an' 'e'll stink up the whole buildin' with fair-moans."

"How do you know what pheromones are?" Kharvish raised an eyebrow.

"I don't really," Qualdo admitted. "But Port said they'd make me stink when I'm older."

"I'll be honest, kid," said Kharvish, rolling his eyes. "You kinda stink _now._"

"Oh _yeah?_ Well _you_ smell like _banthaskin socks_ dipped in... in Wookiee barf!" Qualdo folded his arms and scowled. "And blurrg farts!" he added, sticking out his tongue.

"Get lost," Kharvish snarled.

"I can do it!" Qualdo pleaded to Duzavog. "I'll be the best monkey-lizard ever! You won't even 'ave to pay me this time! Just let me 'elp out! Please?"

"You're in," the Lasat nodded.

"Yippee!" Qualdo pumped his fist. Kharvish groaned.

"Come on, Kharvish," said Duzavog. "We can count on the little guy. He's worked with us before."

"Yeah," said Qualdo. "Loads o' times. One time they took me to an offworld job an' I snuck into the Jewel Museum on Selonia an' switched off the alarms. That was fun, Duzavog, can we do it again? I want to fly in a starship again!"

"We'll see," Duzavog waved. "Alright, meet us back here tomorrow at 1200. Bring your kit."


	19. A Drink With Rebels

Leela walked into Khojaw's, her lekku wrapped around her shoulders like two boas. She didn't see a single human patron. There was a Rodian chatting with an Aqualish, a pair of Duros, and a handful of Quarrens and Grans. Apollon had not arrived yet.

She sat down at the bar to wait for him. The bartender came up to her. "Is your name Leela?"

"Yeah," said Leela. "Why?"

"Nothing," replied the Ithorian. "Apollon just told me to put your drink on his tab. What'll it be?"

"Naboo cream fizz."

"Sure thing," replied the Ithorian. "Shuura, joganfruit or gungapod?"

"Ooh, make it a shuura," Leela replied, rubbing her hands. "Love those."

The bartender winked and went to the back. He returned with a cream-topped fizzing glass and gave it a little stir with a straw.

Leela grinned and drew it in. Picking up the glass, she took a long, savoring sip.

She saw Apollon walk in. She leapt up and walked quickly over to him, drink in hand. "Hey!"

"Hey!" Apollon grinned. "I see you've met Khojaw."

"Yeah," Leela smiled.

Apollon smiled, shuffling his feet and looking around. "So, um… Want to, um… find somewhere to sit?"

"Don't you want to order something first?" asked Leela.

Apollon chuckled. "Yeah! Oops. Hey, Khojaw!"

"You're here!" said Khojaw.

"I'll have what she's having," said Apollon.

"Good choice," Khojaw winked. He was back in a moment with Apollon's cream fizz.

Apollon took it. "_Now_ I think we should find somewhere to sit down."

Leela laughed and glanced around for an empty table with two seats. She saw one and started walking to it. Apollon followed.

They sat. Apollon folded his hands, cleared his throat, and chewed his lip.

Leela sipped her drink, fidgeting with one of her lekku. "So, what kind of stuff do you draw?"

"Anything I see, really," Apollon replied, his voice higher than usual. "Birds, people, objects…"

Apollon tapped a few spots in his datapad and pulled up a hologram full of drawings.

Leela gasped. "Wow," she breathed. "These are amazing!"

"Thanks," said Apollon, ears burning.

"Oh, hey, it's Khojaw," said Leela, pointing to a sketch of the bartender.

"Yeah," said Apollon. "And these are all my friends. This is Onjol, and Haldo, and Dunn. The Wookiee is named Shorkkata, he's a great guy. And that's Parjai, in the Mandalorian armor."

"No way!" Leela exclaimed. "_I_ used to be a Mandalorian!"

"Shut up!" Apollon gasped.

"I still have my old beskar'gam!" said Leela. "I haven't worn it in ages. It probably doesn't even fit anymore."

"How come you left?" 

Leela chewed her lip. "Well... Being a Mando is dangerous. And not just because of the whole mercenary thing."

Apollon swallowed. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Nothing happened to _us_," Leela replied, "but the tribe decided to relocate and Papa... thought it would be safer if I didn't go with them."

"Is your tribe... okay?"

"We don't know what happened to them."

Apollon clenched his fist. "I hate the Empire."

"Me too." Leela took a sip and slammed her drink on the table. "Papa wants me to keep my head down, but I swear, I am _this_ close to running away and joining the Rebellion."

Apollon's eyes lit up. "Can I let you in on a secret?"

Leela nodded.

Apollon tapped his chest. "I'm with the Rebellion."

Leela gasped. "You are?"

"Not officially," Apollon grinned. "Not yet. But my friends and I are planning something big, and once we pull that off, I'm enlisting in the Alliance."

"I've never met a rebel fighter before," Leela breathed.

"Well, this is what we look like," Apollon winked. "Onjol and Haldo and Dunn and I were planning to defect when we graduated. But things are getting really bad, and Onjol says we need to take a stand _now._"

"What do you mean?" asked Leela.

Apollon's eyes darted around the room again. "Onjol says we need to rise up. Take control of the capitol. Free Pasir from Imperial rule."

"We can _do_ that?" Leela gasped. "I always thought the only way for the Rebellion to win was for the Alliance to invade Coruscant and kill the Emperor."

"That's how we win the _war_," Apollon grinned. "But we can win a battle right here on Pasir and send the bucketheads running! Just think of it. No more stormtroopers patrolling the streets. No more Imperial propaganda. No more taxing non-humans to death!"

"No more running from the IOCI," Leela whispered, almost to herself. "We could live on Pasir, safe from the Empire."

"You're a criminal?" Apollon frowned.

"No," Leela explained. "My father. He's a convict. That's why we moved to Pasir, why we changed houses when you pointed us out to that trooper. If Pasir was freed, we wouldn't have to run and hide anymore!"

"That would be wonderful!" Apollon exclaimed. "Oh, can't you just imagine it?"

"I can," Leela whispered. She looked up and gazed at the ceiling. "I always wished the Jedi could come back and save us… But I never thought that we… we could do it ourselves."

"Yeah," Apollon whispered. He touched her hand.

"Hey, it's Park Girl!" Leela and Apollon looked over to see Onjol walking over with Haldo and Dunn. "Found her at last, eh?"

"Hey, guys!" said Apollon, furrowing his brow. "What are you doing here? We don't meet until 1200."

"A little convor told us you two had met," said Onjol.

"Are these your rebel friends?" Leela asked excitedly.

"Hey, she knows us!" cried Onjol. "You got a name, Park Girl?"

"I'm Leela," Leela replied, smiling shyly.

Haldo snapped his fingers at his companions. "Pay up. Mine was closest."

Onjol and Dunn groaned. "No fair, Hal, you speak Ryl."

"What are they talking about?" Leela frowned.

Apollon cleared his throat with embarrassment. "They, um… they might have been trying to guess your name before I knew what it was."

Leela burst into hysterical giggling. "Are you _serious?_"

Apollon buried his face in his hands, trying unsuccessfully to hide his burning face. His friends laughed and slapped each other on the back. Haldo brandished his newly-won credits and pocketed them. "You mind if we sit with you?"

Apollon groaned. "We're kind of in the middle of a—"

"Sure!" Leela said enthusiastically.

Apollon's friends cheered and sat down. "Where you from, Leela?" asked Haldo.

"Um... good question," said Leela. "I don't remember where I was born. Somewhere in the Mid Rim. I used to live on Monderon and now I live here."

"Cool," said Onjol. "So what do you like to do?"

"I like to write stories," said Leela. "What about you guys?"

"I enjoy a friendly game of sabacc," said Onjol. "I'm quite good if I say so myself."

"He likes it traditional," said Haldo. "I prefer Corellian Spike."

"I follow wherever there's a party," said Dunn. "Hey Khojaw! You still got a bottle of the stuff I like?"

Khojaw held up a hand. Dunn flung two five-credit coins across the room and the bartender caught them in his spindly fingers.

"Everything's ready for the uprising," said Onjol. "We have almost the entire district on our side. They'll be lending us boxes, furniture, anything we can use to block off the streets. Rassok says the Alliance can provide arms and ammunition."

"Guys, can we discuss this later?" asked Apollon.

"It's okay, Apollon, I want to hear this," said Leela, placing her fists on her chin and grinning. "The Alliance is coming here?"

"They'll be sending some of the fleet to help cover us from any attacks the Empire may make from above," Onjol explained. "Blockade the planet. Their support combined with the energy shield around our stronghold will keep the Empire from bombing us off the map. That way, we'll be able to concentrate our efforts on the ground."

"Will we be storming the capitol building then?" asked Leela. "Or the minister's house?"

"We can't afford to make an attack on the capitol," said Apollon. "Much as I wish we could. This will be a siege. We stay put and annoy the hell out of them until they agree to get off our planet."

"Exactly," said Haldo. "Instead of going directly to Chatriyon, we'll take control of the square and put a shield up. He'll have to go through _us_ if he wants to have his little parade."

"You have a shield generator?" asked Leela excitedly.

"Right here," said Khojaw, bringing a bottle to the table. "Well, not right _here,_ in my hands, this is for Dunn, but I've got a generator in the back. Want me to show you?"

Leela's eyes lit up and she shot up out of her seat. "Yes!"

Leela yanked Apollon's hand and ran to follow the bartender, who was ambling over to the bar. The others stayed behind. Evidently they had already seen Khojaw's generator.

Khojaw lifted the gate and led Leela and Apollon behind the bar and into the back room. It was crowded with crates upon crates, and against the wall was bolted a large metal, boxlike apparatus with a sprawling control panel on it. "See this thing?" He patted the enormous metal box that nearly filled the whole room. "Looks like a brewing and power unit, but if I flick this switch hidden among the distilling controls…"

Khojaw tapped an unassuming switch surrounded by many others. "Shield goes up, covers everything in a mile radius."

"Wow," Leela breathed. "I'd love to see it go up."

"Yeah, me too," Khojaw chuckled. "But that would give the game away. We have to wait."

Still holding Apollon's hand, Leela walked around the room. There was very little space. "There sure are a lot of boxes," Leela frowned. "I can barely move around in here. What's in them?"

Apollon grinned. "Those," he said, "are for the barricades."


	20. The Jailbreak

Qualdo grinned as he crawled through the ducts of the jail complex. He loved doing this.

Below him, Kharvish, dressed as a stormtrooper, led Duzavog to his cell, carrying the Lasat's confiscated bowcaster in one arm. Qualdo followed them from above on his hands and knees as they marched.

Qualdo furrowed his brow as he saw a bearded Imperial in a white tunic and black cap walking towards them. He looked important.

"Inspector General," Kharvish nodded, recognizing the officer's rank by his badge.

The inspector general looked Duzavog up and down. "So you've caught the last of them. Good work, trooper."

"Thank you," said Kharvish.

"Put him in the cellblock with the others," the inspector ordered. "We'll deal with him and the rest of his associates later."

Duzavog growled. Kharvish punched him in the arm. The inspector nodded approvingly and walked away.

Qualdo scuttled up ahead and tapped on the duct. Kharvish and Duzavog followed his lead.

Qualdo made his way to the lift. The vent opened right into the shaft. He had to time this exactly right or else he would be crushed against the ceiling.

"Portia would kill me if she knew I was doing this," Qualdo grinned.

He heard Kharvish press the button for the turbolift. Soon it came rushing past from above. He heard troopers marching out. Kharvish stepped inside and stamped twice.

That was the signal. Qualdo climbed on top of the lift.

Qualdo's stomach tensed as he prayed to all the gods he could think of this would work.

The lift began to accelerate rapidly. Qualdo clenched the bars on top of the lift and held on for dear life, resisting the urge to whoop.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Now came the moment of truth.

The lift stopped at the second-to-last floor. Qualdo let go of the bars and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he scrambled up the wall and climbed up to the vent above the top floor. His feet disappeared into the duct as he heard the lift start up again.

"Way to go," he whispered with a grin. He heard the lift doors open and tapped on the duct again to let them know he'd made it.

"What was that?"

Qualdo froze. Another person had gotten into the lift when they'd stopped.

"I don't hear anything," said Kharvish.

The other trooper grunted and walked away. Qualdo crawled as quietly as he could to a vent where he could see. Kharvish and Duzavog walked underneath him. It was up to them to lead him now. He didn't know which cellblock was the one where the gang was being held.

"Hey!" Kharvish called to a passing trooper. He elbowed Duzavog sharply, making him growl again. "Where do I put this lug?"

"Is this Duzavog?" The trooper seemed intrigued. Unsurprising, given the Lasat's reputation.

"Yeah," Duzavog grunted. "If you would be so kind as to give us directions, I'm anxious to see my accommodations."

The trooper laughed. "Take a left and then a right. Cell 10-642. Can't miss it."

Qualdo followed them to the cellblock. Which one was Mona in? He closed his eyes. Something told him they were getting closer to her.

He heard a chuckle. "'Ey, Duzavog. Got you too, eh?"

That was his father's voice. Was Mona nearby?

Kharvish unlocked Duzavog's cuffs. "Alright, Qualdo," he said, handing the Lasat his bowcaster. "Get ready to work your magic."

Qualdo grinned and positioned himself in front of a vent. He took out his tiny screwdriver and switched it on. The screws fell to the floor one by one until the grate fell into Kharvish's waiting hands.

"Catch me!" said Qualdo. He leapt from the ceiling as Kharvish tossed aside the grate.

Qualdo dropped into the Devaronian's arms and hopped onto the floor.

"'Ello, boy!" Tarkay waved from behind a red forcefield. He chuckled. "What'd I tell you, Lona? 'E comes in useful sometimes."

Qualdo's parents were in the cell nearest to the vent. Mona was next to them with the Dug. Qualdo rushed to free them first.

"'Ey, Qualdo," Mona grinned. "'Ow's Port?"

"She's gonna be 'appy to see you," said Qualdo as he pulled a small wire from his pocket.

"Coo sa du wermo, Tarkay?" asked the Dug.

"His peedunkee, apparently," said the Toydarian in the cell with the thin human.

"Un wanga _duba?_" the Dug said incredulously.

"Yup, a third one," said Qualdo. "Name's Qualdo. Now quiet, I'm tryin' to concentrate."

Qualdo waved at the panel, which always seemed to bring good luck, before he inserted the wire and fiddled it, picking at the access panel. He felt something spark and pressed a few buttons.

The forcefield flickered and deactivated. Qualdo pumped his fist. "Yes!"

"Hey," said the human behind them. "Do us next!"

Qualdo turned around. "'Ow ya doin', Basta?"

"Decent," shrugged the human.

"Gran shado, peedunkee!" hissed the Dug. "Boska!"

"Don't get your tendrils in a twist," said Qualdo, darting over to the cell with the Dug and the Toydarian.

"Hey! What's going on here?"

Kharvish shot the trooper. "Hey Qualdo, we're gonna have company."

"Workin' on it," said Qualdo. The cell's forcefield vanished. "Got any spare weapons on you, Kharv?"

"Don't give 'im one," said Mona, picking up the fallen trooper's blaster.

"I meant for these two," Qualdo lied.

"Don't forget your folks, boy!" Tarkay urged.

Qualdo pretended to think about it. "Gimme fifty credits?"

"Fifty cred—" Tarkay's wife sputtered. "You let Mona out!"

"'Oo says I won't charge 'er too?" Qualdo shrugged.

"You won't," Mona insisted as she trained her blaster in the direction of approaching footsteps. Several troopers rushed into the detention block. Duzavog blew their formation apart with a shot of his bowcaster.

"This place has got lousy cover," Duzavog growled.

"Just keep shooting!" said Mona.

The Dug galloped on all fours and snatched up two blasters. "Fierfek du poleesa!"

"Get outta the way, moof milker!" Kharvish growled. "You wanna get shot in the back?"

The Tarkays' cell barrier flickered out. "Thanks, kid!" Tarkay said. "Come on, boys, let's run for it!"

"Don't leave me!" Qualdo cried. He could feel the incoming blaster bolts as they narrowly missed him.

Duzavog yanked him by the scruff of his neck. "Back in the ducts you go. Get to the control room, switch off everything you can and meet us at the speeder!"

Duzavog lifted the boy up. Qualdo grabbed the edge of the vent and scrambled inside. Blaster fire echoed below him.

Qualdo bit his lip as he crawled toward the control room, hoping Mona would make it out in one piece. He didn't think he'd be able to face Portia if she didn't.


	21. Reconciliation

Portia stared at the door from behind the gate, glaring at the house. How dare Leela saunter back into her life. It wasn't enough to have been a nuisance when they were children; now she had to rob her of Apollon's affections.

Portia would have serious words with her. Leela had better back off or else.

Suddenly, the door opened. "Portia!" Leela waved. "Hi there!"

"'Ey, Leela," Portia muttered.

"Come in!" said Leela. "I want to thank you!"

"Thank me?" Portia snarled to herself as the gates opened. "What do you want to _thank_ me for?"

Portia walked through the gate as Leela beckoned. "Thank you," said Leela. "For saving my papa."

"I didn't 'ave anythin' to do with that," Portia said coldly. "Apollon did that."

Leela frowned. "I thought…"

"You thought wrong," Portia snapped.

"Well, Apollon _also_ told me you helped him find me!" Leela clasped Portia's hands. "Thank you so much! I was so glad to find out he wasn't a spy."

"You're welcome," Portia muttered. Leela didn't seem to be picking up on her tone.

"Come in!" Leela said brightly. "I'm sure we have a lot to talk about!"

Portia glared at her. "Yeah," she said. "We do."

Leela led Portia into the house. Leela's father looked up briefly from his datapad and raised two fingers in greeting. Portia followed Leela upstairs.

"This is a nice 'ouse," said Portia enviously as they entered Leela's room.

"I know!" Leela beamed. "I adore Pasir."

Leela frowned. "I suppose you haven't been living in the best of conditions here. I'm sorry. That must be awful."

"I get by," Portia muttered.

"Nice jacket, though," Leela remarked. "I like it."

Portia looked down. "Yeah. _Pollon_ gave this to me."

"Aww," Leela sighed, smiling. "He's so thoughtful."

"Thoughtful an' clueless," Portia muttered. Leela didn't hear her. At Leela's invitation, she grudgingly sat on the bed.

"So…" said Leela as she sat next to her, "how did you your family come to move to Pasir?"

"My dad wasted all 'is money on sabacc. That moulee-rah your dad dropped on us? All gone." Portia shook her head in disgust. "My parents could never be content with what they 'ad, even when they 'ad it all. When _we_ 'ad it all. Selfish sleemos."

"I'm sorry," said Leela, touching Portia's arm.

Portia recoiled. "I don't want your pity."

"I don't pity you," Leela replied. "I _sympathize_ with you."

"That's pity," Portia spat. "Think I'm a sorry little rat 'cause I live in a— _used_ to live in a mynock nest of a pad, don't 'ave a cred to my carcass..."

"I don't think less of you because you're poor," Leela insisted, biting her lip. "I feel sorry for you because I've been in your situation."

"No you 'aven't!" Portia shouted. "You lived with us for eight years an' then your rich daddy swooped in an' dropped you in the lap o' luxury! You've never wondered when your next meal was! Never 'ad to steal to survive! Never worried about gettin' shouted at for sayin' the wrong thing! Never 'ad the people 'oo were supposed to take care o' you squander their money on useless junk while you sat shiverin' in a skirt thinner than a scrap o' snakeskin. Never slept... on the floor every... night..."

Portia's voice trailed off. She stared into space with her brow furrowed.

"I _do_ know what that's like," said Leela quietly. "Living with your parents, that was every day for me."

Portia swallowed. "Quay... That's right. Course it's right."

Leela touched her arm.

Portia looked at Leela with watery eyes and burst into tears. Leela wrapped her arms around her and patted her back.

"I'm sorry," Portia whispered. "Quay an' Am-Shak, I'm so sorry. I've been sorry for years. It was 'orrible 'ow I treated you like scum... _I'm_ scum."

"You're not scum," Leela replied softly. "You were a kid. You were following your parents' example. You're not like them anymore. I can feel that."

"That's not true," Portia whimpered. "You don't know me."

"Maybe I don't," Leela admitted. "But I know you're not scum."

Portia began to shudder with sobs. Leela squeezed Portia tight as she bawled into her shoulder, shushing her gently. "You poor thing," Leela murmured. "It's okay now. Everything is going to be alright."

Portia lifted her head and Leela let go. Portia wiped her leathery nose. She was at a loss for words for Leela's kindness, how easily she had forgiven her.

"The bucketheads seized your home," said Leela.

"It wasn't 'ome," Portia murmured.

"Where have you been living?" asked Leela with concern.

"'Ere an' there," Portia mumbled. "Qualdo's got an ol' comms tower 'e roosts in. 'E lets me come over whenever I want."

"Qualdo?" Leela furrowed her brow.

"You know," said Portia. "The baby. 'E's eight years old now."

"I didn't know his name was Qualdo," said Leela.

"'E picked the name 'imself when they kicked 'im out," Portia said disgustedly.

Leela put a hand over her mouth. "How old was he when they did _that?_"

"Four," Portia replied. "Dad said we were too poor to 'ave five mouths to feed."

"That's the worst thing I've ever heard," Leela whispered. "He was _four__?_"

Portia nodded. "It's a miracle 'e survived. Miracle from Qualdo, you might say. The trickster god," she explained, seeing Leela's confused expression. "That's why Qualdo picked 'is name. Thought it might grant 'im favor."

"Wow," said Leela. "Is he doing alright?"

"Better than me," said Portia. "'E's as 'appy as can be on 'is own. Me… I just wish I wasn't poor."

Leela smiled. "Well, my Papa still has the donation he was going to give to your family," she said. "I bet he would give it to you! And you wouldn't have to share it!"

"I couldn't!" Portia gasped, but Leela was already dragging her by the hand. They rushed downstairs to where Leela's father was working at a desk. "Papa," said Leela, "where's the donation you were going to give the Banquos?"

"In the charity safe, of course," he replied. "What f— Ohhh." He smiled at Portia. "Leela has a good heart. But I'll do you one better. The Empire took your apartment, right?"

"Yeah," Portia mumbled.

"And you don't have anywhere to stay?"

"I mean I've got an old tower my—"

"Why don't you stay with us?" Leela's father smiled. "We have everything you could need here. We have multiple extra rooms, although we never have company so we'll need to put sheets on the bed, but we can do that easily enough."

Portia caught her breath. "I couldn't. I don't deserve—"

"Consider it repayment for your part in saving my life," Leela's father said. "That is, if thinking of it as charity offends your pride."

"Thank you, sir," Portia whispered, clasping his hand in both of hers.

"Call me Jonpol," said Leela's father. "And your name is Portia, if I remember correctly?"

"That's right, sir— Jonpol," Portia nodded.

"Well, Portia, there's a guest room is upstairs, just next to Leela's room," said Com. "You're welcome to check it out. If you don't find it to your liking we can arrange for you to sleep in the room downstairs instead. Leela will be along shortly to help you with your clothing situation."

Portia went upstairs, feeling as though her heart were about to burst. Com turned to Leela and smiled. "So," he said, "tell me about your date."


	22. Com's Interdiction

Portia gingerly touched the bare mattress. It was so soft! She wanted to throw herself onto it, but her clothes were filthy and she was afraid she might get it dirty. The room was illuminated with a soft, white overhead light that had clicked on when she had walked in. There was a set of drawers built into the wall, next to what looked like a closet. Perhaps it was due to its emptiness, but the room looked more spacious than the entire apartment that Portia used to live in. Portia looked around the room and noticed a panel by the door. She went up to it and pressed a few buttons. This one opened the closet. This one locked the door. This was the light switch. She pressed the rectangular white button in the lower left corner.

The window shutter retracted with a whoosh. Portia rushed to it and tapped on the glass with her fingernail. She saw the night city, illuminated in the streetlights and windows. Speeders zoomed through the streets.

Portia pressed the button next to the window and the glass slid away. She stuck her head out the window and breathed in the night air. The wind cooled the tears of awe that ran down her face. She'd never had a room like this even on Monderon.

Portia took a few deep breaths and composed herself. She closed the window and went downstairs to thank Jonpol for letting her stay.

As she walked down the stairs, she heard Jonpol and Leela arguing. "We've talked about this. I don't want you mixing with the Rebellion. They're no better than the Empire, and more importantly, you're going to get yourself killed. We didn't leave the Mandalorians so you could put an even bigger target on your back."

"How can they be no better than the Empire, buir'ika?" Leela cried. "The Empire is horrible! You hate the Empire! The Rebellion is trying to build a better galaxy!"

"They're trying to restore the Republic," Jonpol corrected. "It's in the name, 'Alliance to Restore the Republic.' And it wasn't the _Empire_ that threw me in prison to rot for over a decade. The Empire is just the Republic without the facade of justice."

"But the new Republic doesn't have to be like the old one," Leela protested.

"Really?" Jonpol retorted. "And what is this Rebellion made of? Former senators. Clone Wars veterans. And the sons of rich Imperial officers who are bored with their studies."

Portia clenched her fist. That was Apollon he was talking about.

"And nonhumans!" said Leela. "People like me! People like Koodo! Nonhumans are suffering on Pasir. You know this. You go around giving them money!"

"That's not the same thing as rebelling."

"But don't you see, if we liberate Pasir from Imperial rule then the poor—"

"_Liberate_ it?"

"It happened on Lothal," Leela insisted. "The Alliance drove the Empire offworld. Apollon's friends are in touch with the Alliance. With their support we could free Pasir!"

"And how long has Lothal been free?" Com retorted. "Six months? I don't think so. The Empire will return to Lothal and burn it to the crust. And if their cockamamie riot actually succeeds, the Empire will bring a fleet of Star Destroyers and turn it into an Imperial hellhole. It's bad enough already here. Do you want Pasir to become another Coruscant, squeezing the planet's resources dry and crawling with more stormtroopers than citizens? Or Wobani, sending political prisoners and criminals like me to slave until they die?"

Jonpol was a criminal? That checked out, Portia supposed. That was why he'd introduced himself as Zirowan all those years ago.

"We can't defeat the Empire if we don't gain small victories—"

"I don't _want_ to replace the Empire! Weren't you listening?" Jonpol exploded. "You are not to see that boy again. Or _any_ of his associates."

"What about Portia?"

Portia jolted at the mention of her name.

"They're friends," Leela reminded him forcefully. "You going to tell me not to see her? Kick her out so she doesn't fill my head with ridiculous ideas about equality and civil rights?"

Portia held her breath, terrified of what Jonpol would say next.

"Of course not," Jonpol snapped, and Portia breathed a sigh of relief. "Just don't talk to her about the rebellion or _him._ Send her down, please, so I can have a word with her about that."

Portia saw Leela storm around the corner and gave a sympathetic look. Leela looked up at her, face still fixed in a glare. "How much did you hear?"

"Just the part where your dad 'ates the Rebellion," said Portia. "I'm really sorry about Apollon."

Leela sighed heavily through her nose and trudged up to her room. Portia walked cautiously down the stairs. "Jonpol, sir?"

Jonpol looked up and sighed. "Hello, Portia. Do you like your room?"

"I love it," Portia said, smiling.

"Good." Jonpol nodded and paused. "Did you hear me raise my voice just now?"

"Yeah," Portia admitted.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," said Jonpol, twirling a stylus between his fingers.

Portia shuffled her feet, not knowing what to say. "Apollon's alright," she said finally.

"I'm sure he is, but he's misguided," Jonpol sighed. "He's going to get himself killed. I can't let my daughter experience that kind of heartbreak."

Portia swallowed. "Yeah. That'd be 'orrible."

Jonpol nodded and exhaled through his nose. "Where do you stand, Portia? Are you a rebel too?"

"I don't know," Portia shrugged. "Don't feel like my life would be better either way."

"Same here," said Jonpol. He frowned apologetically. "You might have heard me say as much."

Portia nodded.

"You weren't born when the Republic was in power," said Jonpol. "It was great for some, but for the poor, those who lived beyond the Core… It wasn't much different than it is now. Remember that."

Portia nodded.

Jonpol sighed again. "Leela is alone," he said. "I thought I could give her the companionship she craves by letting her spend time with that boy. More than ever, I think she needs a friend."

Portia swallowed. "I'll be 'er friend. We'll be like sisters… again."

Jonpol smiled. "I think she would like that."


	23. Consolation

Apollon bounced on his heels as he waited for the door to open. Leela's father answered it.

"Good morning, sir!" Apollon grinned. "Can I see—"

"Leela? No." Elmor stepped outside and the door shut. "I don't want you to speak my daughter again."

"What?" Apollon gasped. "Why not?"

Elmor leaned in close so he could speak in a low voice. "Leela told me all about your rebellion," he said coldly. "We don't want anything to do with your crusade to restore the Republic."

"You don't?" Apollon cried. "But why? It would bring you nothing but good! You wouldn't have to run from the Empire anymore!"

"Quiet!" Leela's father hissed, looking around. "How do you know about that?"

"L-leela told me," Apollon stammered. "It's alright, you can trust me! I won't tell anyone!"

"You listen to me," Elmor growled. "You are not to contact my daughter in any form and she is not allowed to contact you. Take your rebellion and get off my property."

"Yes, sir," said Apollon weakly, shaken. He bit his lip. "You haven't seen Portia, have you? I haven't seen her since yesterday. I'm worried."

"Well, you don't need to worry anymore," Elmor said gruffly, his tone softening by a fraction. "She's living with us now."

"Then I'll just—"

Elmor lifted Apollon by one shoulder and set him back an arm's length. "You are not to come another step closer to the door," he insisted. "_I'll_ get her for you."

Elmor went into the house. Portia came out a few moments later, looking apologetic.

Apollon smiled. "Hey, Port."

"How you feelin', Pol?" she asked sympathetically.

Apollon shook his head. "Not as good as I did a minute ago. How about you?"

Portia gave a subdued smile. "Good. It's really nice 'ere. 'Ave you seen Qualdo?"

Apollon shook his head. "Sorry."

"If you see 'im], give 'im this address," said Portia. "Tell 'im 'e can come live 'ere. If I don't see 'im first."

"Sure thing, Port." Apollon sighed and put his hands in his waistcoat pockets.

Portia bit her lip. "You want to go to Khojaw's? Try an' take your mind off things?"

Apollon nodded. "I'd like that."

* * *

Portia couldn't help but feel frustrated as they walked inside. She'd tried to make conversation with Apollon along the way, but he had been too morose to say very much at all.

They walked into Khojaw's. Substituting for the old Ithorian was Chadric, a Taghrin who prided himself on his appearance. His red horns were always sharpened to fine points and he kept his long brown hair well-oiled. He wore a sweater and a bowtie, which he thought lent the establishment the class it needed, though he was far from snobbish or Khojaw wouldn't have taken him on. Apollon thought it made him look like a dandy. But that seemed to be exactly what Chadric was going for.

"Apollon!" Chadric grinned, displaying his shiny, oversized blue teeth. "Just wanted to give you congratulations, darling. Khojaw told me you've got yourself a girlfriend."

The grin immediately disappeared when he saw Apollon's face. "Oh dear. Dumped you already, has she?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Apollon replied. "What's Khojaw up to?"

"He's delivering invitations to the _Empire Day party._" Chadric winked twice. "What can I get you two?"

"What do you want, Port?" Apollon asked.

"Sour sarlacc," Portia replied.

"One sour sarlacc and a pint of Trandoshan ale, Chadric." Apollon reached into his pocket to pay for their drinks.

Portia stopped him. "Don't get that, Pollon."

"I want to take my mind off things."

"That ain't 'ow I meant it," Portia insisted gently. "Get something else."

Apollon sighed. "Alright, Chad, make that a hyperdrive on the rocks instead."

"I'll take this one," said Portia, talking out a handful of credits and dropping them on the counter.

Chadric blinked with surprise. "Your drinks are always on the house, love. Since when did you start paying for them?"

"Since now," Portia replied. "I don't mind. Really."

"Alright, then," the Taghrin shrugged. He wouldn't say no to extra credits. "Coming right up, darlings."

Apollon raised an eyebrow. "I was going to pay for that. You didn't need to—"

"It's alright," Portia reassured him. "Le— I came into a lot o' credits recently."

"That's wonderful!" Apollon grinned. "Good for you."

Chadric returned with their drinks. "Hey, Pol, hope you feel better, darling, okay?"

"Thanks, Chadric," Apollon smiled, taking his drink.

They found an empty table and sat down. Portia slipped her jacket off and draped it over the back of the chair behind her.

"Did you get new clothes?" Apollon furrowed his brow.

"Yeah," said Portia. "Leela gave 'em to me." She instantly realized her mistake.

"Oh," said Apollon. "That's nice. How did you end up living with Leela?"

Portia squirmed. "'Er, um… 'Er dad approached me. 'E felt bad that my 'ome 'ad been seized." That was true enough.

Apollon sipped his drink and nodded. "I'm happy for you, Port."

She smiled. "Thanks, Pollon."

Apollon sighed. "Why does he hate the Rebellion?"

Portia furrowed her brow. "I think I over'eard 'im say 'e 'ates the Republic 'cause they threw 'im in prison."

"Oh," said Apollon. "Yeah. That would do it."

"Is that what the Rebellion is trying to do?" asked Portia. "Bring back the Republic?"

"Well, yeah, but it won't be like the old one," said Apollon exasperatedly. "That's the entire point of a revolution. To make things better. Why would we settle for anything less than the best for the galaxy? Can't he see that we can make a galaxy where he doesn't have to live in fear of being sent back to prison?"

"I think it's also about keeping Leela safe," said Portia quietly.

Apollon chewed his lip. "Now _that_ I understand."

Portia nodded. She needed to get the subject off of Leela.

"So, um… 'Ow's school?"

"School's good," said Apollon indifferently, sipping his drink.

Portia chewed her lip. "You want to tell me about it?"

"Not really," Apollon sighed. "It's not that interesting."

"Well, what d'you want to talk about?" asked Portia.

Apollon hmmed, swirling his finger on the table surface. "I dunno."

Portia sighed. "Come on, Apollon, there's got to be somethin' you..." She stopped and looked toward the door as Qualdo came running. "'Ey Port!" he exclaimed. "Guess what! Everybody's out!"

"What do you mean, everybody's out?" Portia furrowed her brow.

"The gang! Mum an' Dad! _Mona!_ There was a breakout! I helped!" Qualdo was beaming from earhole to earhole.

The blood drained from Portia's face. "You did _what...?_"

"Oh, yeah, also, Mona's waitin' outside for you," Qualdo added, hopping on the barstool. "You're welcome."

Portia chewed her lip. She looked at Apollon. She looked at Qualdo. "Just Mona?"

"Yup," said Qualdo. "Everybody else is at the Stash."

"What's the Stash?" asked Apollon.

"Gang's den," Qualdo replied. "They keep all their loot an' spare gear there. No one'll tell me where it is, but Port knows. Don't ya, Port?"

Portia nodded. She rose from her seat, took a deep breath, and went out to face her sister.


	24. Portia's Family

Portia emerged from the cantina. "I know why you're 'ere."

"Mum an' Dad are just worried about you, is all," said Desdemona. "You disappeared. We 'aven't been able to find you. We've been worried sick."

"I know you 'ave," said Portia. "But you tell 'em I'm fine. I'm not comin' back, Mona. I'm on my own now."

"What are you 'angin' out with Apollon for, anyway?" asked Desdemona. "'E still givin' you money? Can't you share it with us?"

"As a matter of fact, 'e's _not,_ but I do 'ave some," said Portia. She dug into her purse and handed her sister a handful of credits. "An' I swear, Mona, if you let Dad get 'is slimy little 'ands on it—"

"When did you get a purse?" asked Desdemona furrowing her brow. "Where'd you get new clothes? You're 'oldin' out on us, Port."

"It's none o' your karkin' business!" Portia snapped. "Leave me alone. I'm _through_ with Mum an' Dad. Always makin' me 'elp in their little schemes. Gettin' me arrested. Makin' me steal from people even poorer than us. I'm _done._ An' you can tell 'em that."

Portia softened. "Unless… you want to leave too."

"No," said Desdemona sharply. "No, I don't. We're _family,_ Port. We all 'ave to do our part to keep the family afloat. You can't just get a leg up an' not 'elp us. Family sticks together."

"Oh, e _chu_ ta!" Portia screamed. "'Agwa chuba pullee da foo jee, 'agwa pullee da _bantha poodoo!_"

"Soong _nobata_ bantha poodoo!" Desdemona shouted.

"Oh yeah? What about Qualdo?" Portia challenged. "Eh? You want _'im_ to come back, too? 'Family sticks together.' What a load o' yuna puna bantha poodoo. 'Ypocrites, the lot o' you."

"You can't turn your back on family!" Desdemona grabbed her arm.

"When you treat me like _that_ I sure as 'ell can," Portia snarled, jerking out of her sister's grasp. "I've got a new family now. I don't need you."

Tears sprouted in Desdemona's eyes. "Portia—"

"No!" Portia shouted, stamping her foot. "Go away! Go back to swindlin' an' cheatin' and stealin', but I'm _done!_ If Qualdo's dead weight, then so am I! You know why I stuck around, Mona? I thought we could get our old life back, long as we picked one more pocket. But that's not goin' to 'appen, Mona. Not while Mum and Dad spend every single bloody credit that touches their fingers like stim-biters. I'm not goin' to be their stoopa anymore. I'm makin' my _own_ way. If you want to get out of the gutter, I suggest you do too."

Desdemona glared at her, biting her lip as a tear dripped onto the ground. "Traitor."

Portia stormed back into the cantina. Apollon was waiting for her. "What's wrong, Port?"

"Family trouble," Portia growled. She looked over her shoulder. Mona was standing in the door, watching. Portia glared at her until she went away.

* * *

Leela heard the buzzer and rushed down the stairs. Com beat her to the door and opened it. "I told you to stay away."

"I was just walking Portia home," said Apollon, throwing up his hands. His eyes flicked over Com's shoulder for the briefest second. Leela jerked her chin at him sadly.

Com looked over his shoulder. "Leela, upstairs."

Leela sulked and trudged up the stairs. Portia followed behind her. Leela heard the door shut.

"Where have you been?" asked Leela.

"Cheerin' Pollon up," said Portia. "'E took it pretty 'ard that you aren't allowed to see each other anymore."

"He did?" Leela's eyes lit up a little.

"Yeah," Portia nodded. "Poor guy."

Leela sighed. "I wish Papa didn't hate the Rebellion."

Portia frowned sympathetically. "You'll find someone else."

"It's not just him though," said Leela. "I want to help the Rebellion. I hate the Empire. I want to help drive it away from Pasir."

Portia nodded. "Well, I think they've got it 'andled. I'm sure they'll be fine."

Leela sighed and pressed the button to open the door to her room. Her demeanor brightened somewhat as she went over to her dresser. "I got you something."

"What is it?" Portia asked curiously as Leela turned around with a little bag in her hands.

"Well, I figured you might need new bands for your braids," said Leela. "And I don't have hair, so I didn't have any to give you, so I went out and bought some."

Portia put a hand to her heart as lump formed in her throat. "Thank you."

Portia took the bag. Leela was smiling now. Portia opened the bag. Inside were dozens of hair ties and bands. Something electric blue caught Portia's eye. "What's this?"

She pulled it from the bag. It was a small metal clip in the shape of a Sriluurian butterfly. She gasped.

Leela was grinning. "I thought of you immediately when I saw that. Try it on."

Portia clipped it to one of her braids. She held the end of her braid between two fingers and admired the intricate gold etchings on the bright blue wings. "It's beautiful."

She hugged Leela, smiling and misty-eyed. Leela smiled and hugged her back.

Leela sat on the bed. "So, how's Apollon?"

"'E's goin' to be okay," said Portia. "'E'll get over it. You're not 'is first 'eartbreak."

Leela sighed. "He's mine."

Portia bit her lip, briefly considering revealing that they had that in common.

Leela furrowed her brow. "Hey, Portia, where does Apollon live?"

Portia's eyes widened. "I can't tell you that."

"Come on, Portia," Leela wheedled.

"No," Portia protested, shaking her head. "I won't tell you."

Leela shook her head and laid down on her bed. "Does he still go to Alderaan Park?"

"Not as often as 'e used to."

Leela sat up. "Portia, you don't think you could give him a message for me?"

"I_ don't_," said Portia firmly. "I'll tell your dad you asked me to."

"Don't do that!" said Leela, jumping from her bed. "Please, Port, don't do that."

"I won't," said Portia. "Just don't ask me to go be'ind your dad's back."

Leela nodded, disappointed. She laid back on her bed.

"I'm sorry, Leela," said Portia, touching her hand. "It's better this way."

Leela sighed. "You're lucky to have him for a best friend."

Portia bit her lip. "Yeah."

Leela rolled over. "How'd you two meet, anyway?"

"I went over to 'is 'ouse when we were behind on our rent," said Portia. "'E gave us sixty credits."

"That was when you _first_ met him?" Leela frowned, confused. "He wasn't weirded out at all by a stranger knocking on his door and asking for sixty credits?"

"Well, first of all, I asked for twenty," Portia replied, "an' second, we lived right next door to each other so it wasn't that..." Portia's hand flew to her mouth with a gasp.

"Aha!" Leela shot up again. "Of course! Everything makes sense!"

"No it doesn't!" Portia yelled quickly. "Um... 'E moved! Right after that! 'E moved! 'E doesn't live there anymore!"

"I'm not buying it, Port," Leela smirked. She patted her shoulder. "Thanks for your help. _Please_ don't tell my papa. I'll give you twenty credits."

"I don't want your money!" Portia cried. "Leela, don't do it!"

"Please, Portia," said Leela, putting her hands on Portia's shoulders. "I _have_ to. I just have to talk to him."

"I'll tell 'im, I will," Portia warned. "Don't make me."

"What would you do if _your_ papa never let you see Apollon again?" asked Leela.

Portia bit her lip.

"Cover for me, Port," said Leela. "Please."

Portia sighed. "Go on then."

"You're the best, Port," Leela grinned. She grabbed a cloak from her closet and darted from the room. Portia kneaded her forehead.


	25. A Secret Visit

Apollon shuffled down the hall as he made his way to his apartment, hands in his pockets. He glanced at the Tarkays' door and felt the urge to open it.

He pressed the button and the door slid open. The inside of the house was completely empty, and the walls were scarred with the damage from the skirmish. He saw the blaster marks and the hole where the Lasat thug's bowcaster had punched through the wall. The tenant in the adjacent room had applied several strips of duratape to the other side in an effort to patch the breach.

The emptiness made him sad, for some reason. It wasn't as if he'd ever particularly liked liked the Tarkays' apartment.

It was Portia he missed, he realized as he walked in, switching on the light. She'd lived next door to him ever since he decided to buy a room outside of the university dorms. Now she was living with Leela, and seemed all the more inaccessible for the fact that he and Leela were forbidden to see each other. He could still see Portia, of course, but not without feeling as though he were infringing on Leela and her father.

He leaned against the counter. There was no couch, there were no chairs. The room was empty.

Apollon sighed. He pressed the light switch as he walked out. Hopefully no one had seen the light in the window.

He entered his apartment and flopped down on his couch. His homework was all finished, transmitted to his professors ahead of schedule. He grabbed a datapad from the table and pulled up a mindless game.

He pulled back a slingshot with his finger, flinging colored energy balls at the shields of an enemy fortress. It reminded him of what he was going to be doing very soon.

His thoughts turned morbid as he analyzed the weak points in the game's level. One carefully placed hit to that box…

He sent it flying. The box exploded, sending the blocks around it flying through the air. Circles representing enemy forces popped like balloons made of smoke. As calculated, one of the flying boxes crashed into the shield generator and shattered it to pieces. The enemy— what was left of it— was completely defenseless. Apollon launched a white ball high into the air, tapped the screen, and watched a second white ball drop straight down and obliterate the rest of the fortress.

He received a perfect score. It was too easy. Sighing, he switched off the datapad and put it back. Maybe he would just take a nap.

He didn't know if he had fallen asleep or not, but if he had, he was awoken by a knock at the door. He rushed over and pressed it open.

"Leela!" he gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a rebel now," Leela grinned.

"Leela, you can't just—" Apollon sputtered as Leela walked into the room. She whistled as she looked around. "Wow," she said. "You know, for an apartment this cheap, I was expecting something shabbier. I had no idea you were such a natural interior decorator."

"Thank you. Hold it!" Apollon slapped his forehead. "Leela, you're not supposed to be here! You're going to get in so much trouble! I might get in trouble!"

"Portia's covering for me," Leela grinned, sitting on the couch. "Is this rancor leather?"

"Synth leather. Leela!" Apollon threw up his hands. "I can't believe this."

"Come on, Apollon, you know my papa's wrong about the Rebellion," said Leela. "I want to help. I want to fight. And I want to be with you."

Apollon sighed. "Look, I want all those things too, but it's just not—"

He sighed and sat down on the couch with her. "Look, I'm happy to see you, but we can't."

"Yes we can," Leela insisted. "When does the revolt start?"

"Tomorrow," said Apollon. "But Leela, I'm afraid—"

"Don't worry," Leela assured him. "I can handle myself." She took something out of her pocket.

"A holdout pistol?" Apollon whistled. "Nice quality, too."

"Blurgg-1120," said Leela proudly. "Papa got it for me ages ago to defend myself. And I happen to know Hera Syndulla uses one of these."

Apollon sighed. "I still don't think it's a good idea. If you sneak out to help us, your dad will be livid."

"I can deal with that later," Leela waved. "Pasir will be free! He'll see how wonderful it will be."

"I don't think so," Apollon shook his head. "Not if his perception of a post-Empire Pasir is tainted by that kind of betrayal. No, Leela. I'm sorry. If you want any chance of us being together when this is over, you'll sit this one out. I don't know if your dad would ever forgive you if you helped us. He certainly wouldn't forgive me."

Leela sighed. "I guess you're right. Family is more important."

"Don't worry," said Apollon, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We can manage on our own. You don't need to betray your dad's trust like this."

She slipped her blaster back into her pocket. "I wish I could help."

"You can," Apollon reassured her. "Do you have any friends? Besides me and Portia? If you could talk them into helping us…"

Leela snapped her fingers. "Koodo!"

"What does that mean?" asked Apollon. "I don't speak Huttese."

"No, Koodo's his name. He's a Rodian," Leela explained. "He's a friend. My papa rescued him from under a shorted hovercart back when he was prime minister of Montal."

"Back when he was _WHAT?_" Apollon's eyes widened.

"He'll gladly join the fight!" Leela exclaimed. "I'll tell him to meet you guys at Khojaw's!"

"Great!" Apollon clapped her on the shoulder. "Now get out of here."

"Okay." She threw her arms around him. "May the Force be with you."

He smiled and hugged her back. "See you on the other side, Leela."


	26. Wayward Children

**The Stash.**

Tarkay snapped his tunic shut one button after the other, hiding the clone trooper cuirass underneath. "When's Mona gettin' back, eh?"

"I'm sure it's any minute now," replied his wife.

They heard the secret door open. "Soong cheekta," the Dug said.

Desdemona climbed down into the den. She shut the door with the press of the button.

"Where's your sister?" Tarkay growled as he inspected a handheld blaster.

"She's thrown in 'er lot, dopa-maskey cheeskar kung," Mona replied disgustedly. "But I followed 'er to the place she's staying, an' you won't believe 'oo lives there."

"Won't I?" Tarkay smirked and rubbed his hands. "Let's 'ave it, Mona."

Desdemona grinned. "Port's livin'… at Leela's 'ouse."

"Who's Leela again?" Duzavog grunted.

"She's not important," Tarkay chuckled. "It's 'er father we're interested in. 'E's the one we tried to squeeze two 'undred 'atoo out of."

"'E's rich," said Desdemona. "'Is 'ouse 'as got to be loaded. It's a regular mansion."

Tarkay glanced at each of his associates. "Tonight, we sack the old man's 'ouse an' ditch this place. If 'e's loaded enough, we'll see if we can't make it on Canto Bight, eh?"

Tarkay's associates chuckled. Desdemona furrowed her brow. "What are we goin' to do about Port?"

"To 'ell with 'er," said Tarkay. "More credits for us."

Tarkay's wife pursed her lips. "I don't want to leave my little girl behind."

"I'll miss 'er too, dear, but we've got another one," Tarkay shrugged, jerking his head at Desdemona. "She's no daughter of ours if she won't stand with us. Besides, dear, think of the credits. You weren't this choked up about droppin' the boy."

"'E was a brat," she shrugged dismissively. "You 'ated 'im too, 'e was always whinin' 'is 'ead off."

"We could always try for a few more girls," Tarkay winked.

"Not on your life," she snarled.

"Been eight bloody years since I've gotten..." Tarkay grumbled under his breath. "Alright, Mona. When it gets dark, you lead us to the house. Right?"

Desdemona nodded. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Yeah."

* * *

Apollon sat on his couch and took a deep breath. He tapped the holoprojector and it began to hum. In a few moments, his father appeared in it.

"Hello, son," said Admiral Kondric.

"Hey, dad," Apollon swallowed. "Hey… there's a couple things I should tell you."

"Yes, of course," his father smiled, folding his hands.

"I…" Apollon took a deep breath. "I don't believe in the Empire anymore."

Admiral Kondric's brow clouded. "Don't believe in the Empire? How can that be possible?"

"I haven't for a while now," Apollon confessed. "Studying on Pasir, I've seen how the Empire treats its citizens."

"The Empire treats its citizens _especially_ well on Pasir!" said Apollon's father. "You should be proud to be part of it!"

"It treats its _human_ citizens well," said Apollon. "But what about nonhumans? There are no rich aliens here. I've seen stormtroopers arrest Rodians for grilling meat in their own front yard. Nonhumans get paid less than you send me from home, and yet the humans working the exact same job under the exact same supervisor get a fair wage. The number of times I've seen a stormtrooper approach an alien and walk away from a corpse…" Apollon shuddered.

"Son, that can't be," said Admiral Kondric. "Pasir treats aliens very well. Many alien senators are from Pasir."

"Don't you get it, Dad?" Apollon retorted. "That was the Republic! This is the Empire! I know you think they're the same, but they're not!"

"Those are treasonous words, boy," Kondric warned. "You had better watch yourself. Stop this right now."

"No, Dad," said Apollon. "The Empire is rotten to the core. I'm going to do my part to see it replaced."

"Apollon Victor Kondric," Apollon's father growled, "I didn't serve in the Clone Wars for my son to turn traitor and seek to undermine _everything_ I fought so hard for!"

"I'm fighting for _exactly _what you fought for!" Apollon exclaimed. "Justice and equality! Wasn't that what the Republic stood for? How can you say the same of the Empire?"

"I fought for unity and peace," Admiral Kondric growled, his tiny holographic finger quivering. "Insurrection tears the galaxy apart! The Rebellion is no better than the Separatists! They are _anarchists_ and _war criminals__!_ What separates Gerrera from Grievous?"

"Saw Gerrera doesn't represent the Rebellion!" Apollon shouted.

"Who's been feeding you this treasonous propaganda, Apollon?" Kondric demanded.

"Propaganda?" Apollon exclaimed. "You want to talk about propaganda? Have you heard the blatant lies they put in our textbooks? You were _there_ at Wotalu! You _know_ the clones didn't catch Master Droshi conspiring with the enemy. General Warmagon was already dead! The battle was over! But I was told the only reason the Republic won that battle was because Droshi was executed. And when I told you what my professor said? You chose to doubt your own memory over the _fabrications_ of the Empire! Can't you see how you've been manipulated?"

"I can see how _you_ have been manipulated," Kondric seethed. "Just as the Jedi manipulated me."

Apollon sighed. "You've always taught me to stand for the truth. To do what's right. I can't ignore my conscience."

"Neither can I," his father replied coldly.

The hologram flickered out, leaving Apollon to stare at the lifeless communicator. He sighed, kneading his temples with his fingers. After a moment he began to shake, and soon he was sobbing.


	27. The Robbery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for verbal threat of a beating.

Portia awoke with a start. She heard voices outside. Familiar voices.

She flew to the window. A Toydarian had flown over the wall and a Dug was clambering over it right behind him.

"'Urry up and open the gate!" her father demanded.

"I'm doing it, I'm doing it!" The Toydarian pressed the button and the bars slid into the wall. Tarkay walked through with Duzavog and Basta.

Portia opened the window. "'Ey!" she yelled. "What are you doing 'ere?"

"Damn you, Port, shut your mouth before you wake them up!" Tarkay hissed. "Get down 'ere an' help us!"

"No!" Portia shouted. "I won't let you steal from them!"

"Bolshka, get up there and shut 'er up!" Tarkay barked, punching the Toydarian in the back. The Toydarian gave him a dirty look and zoomed up to the window.

Portia pressed the button to close it just in time. The Toydarian smacked his face against the glass. "Ow! Fierfek!"

Portia ran to Jonpol's room. "Intruders!" she yelled.

Jonpol jerked awake. "Bounty hunters? Stormtroopers?"

"No!" Portia cried. "My dad an' 'is gang!"

Jonpol was on his feet in a flash with his pistol in hand. "I'll chase them off."

As Jonpol raced downstairs, Portia ran to Leela's room. "Leela! Wake up!"

Leela's door flew open. "I heard them. Take this."

She tossed Portia a small blaster. "Go down and keep them from getting in the house!"

Portia raced downstairs, but heard the sound of someone scrambling up the wall. She rushed back up stairs toward the sound. She heard the sound of a blaster shattering a window. The Dug hopped through and began searching for valuables.

"Chuba!" Portia yelled. "Bolla neechu, sleemo!"

The Dug's head whirled around. He growled and pointed his blaster at her. "Pushee, schutta, mo jee keepuna."

The gun dropped from his hand as Portia's blaster bolt hit his fingers. "Fierfek!"

Portia set her blaster to stun and shot him directly in the face.

Her heart pounded as she stood there, the Dug's unconscious body sprawled on the floor. She took his blaster and rushed downstairs.

As she burst through the door, she saw Jonpol and Duzavog wrestling, their blasters lying in the grass. Jonpol was on top of the Lasat, twisting Duzavog's arm behind his back. With one swift punch to the head, he was out cold.

"They're going round the back!" Jonpol cried. "Stop them!"

Portia raced around the house to find Basta trying to pry open the back door with a crowbar. She glared at him and squeezed the trigger. He clutched his side as he fell unconscious.

Portia felt a hand grab her shoulder. Her blaster flew from her hand as she was yanked backward.

"'Ello, Port," her father growled in her ear. "What 'ave you been up to?"

Portia kicked her foot up between his legs. Her heel bounced off a codpiece.

"Clone trooper undies," Tarkay grinned. "You're comin' with me."

Portia tried elbowing him in the gut. She cried out as her elbow bruised against more hidden armor. Tarkay dragged her over to the front. "Once Kolba and Bolshka grab the goods, I'm takin' you 'ome an' givin' you the beatin' o' your life!"

"Kolba's out cold upstairs," Portia spat. "I stunned 'im in the head."

"What?" Tarkay snarled.

Jonpol dashed around the corner. He glared at Portia's father and pointed his blaster at him. "Let her go, Tarkay."

"You shoot, you'll hit her," Tarkay growled, moving Portia in front of the blaster. "I won't let you take my daughter from me."

A cry came from the upstairs. Blaster shots started ringing through the house.

"Leela!" Jonpol cried.

"Go 'elp 'er!" Portia grunted, trying to shake out of her father' grip. "I'm fine!"

Jonpol looked back and forth between Portia and the upstairs window.

"No, go ahead," Tarkay insisted with a gloating smile. "Save Port. Leave the Toydarian to Leecha."

Jonpol flicked a switch on his blaster and pointed it at Portia. "I'll stun you both," he warned. "You won't get away."

Tarkay turned his blaster and pointed it at Portia's head. "Shoot an' she doesn't wake up."

Portia gulped. Her father's breath felt hot on her neck. Then she realized there was one place he wasn't wearing armor. She stood on tiptoe.

Tarkay shouted as the back of Portia's head slammed backward into his nose with a crunch. Portia jumped out of the way as he fired his blaster rapidly. Jonpol dove for him, but he rolled out of the way, scrambled to his feet, and took off running. Jonpol fired after him, but the shots whizzed past and he escaped down the street.

Portia picked up her blaster and ran into the house. Blaster shots rang through the house as she dashed upstairs.

She ran toward the sound of blaster fire. Leela was backed against the door to her father's room, eyes wide with fear, holdout blaster pointed shakily at the Toydarian.

"Shoot 'im!" Portia cried.

"It's jammed!" Leela cried back.

Instantly Leela realized her mistake and dove out of the way as the Toydarian blasted the door. She threw her blaster at the thug's head. The Toydarian swore and fired a shot after her.

Portia shouted as she squeezed the trigger of her blaster. The Toydarian shot upward to avoid being stunned in the gut and banged his head on the ceiling. He dropped to the ground in a heap.

Portia rushed over to the Toydarian and stunned him for good measure.

Leela sat panting on the floor. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," said Portia. "'Ere's your blaster back."

Leela shook her head. "Keep it."

Portia nodded. She turned as Leela's father rushed up the stairs. "Is it over?"

"It's over," Leela nodded.

Leela's father took a knee, panting. "I couldn't catch him."

"That's a surprise," Portia sighed. "Rotten sleemo."

Leela's father looked at the unconscious Toydarian grimly. "I'm afraid this incident might attract Imperial attention."


	28. The Eve of Fate

Leela entered her father's room. Portia followed behind.

Com was sitting in his bed with a datapad. He put down the device and sighed. "I've decided it's too dangerous here."

Leela swallowed. "So where should we go? Maitre-Shan? Chancelier-Fillorean?"

"I mean here, on Pasir," said Com.

"What?" she gasped. "Are you sure?"

"I've been reading the HoloNet," said Com. "Com Narcom has been spotted on Pasir and there's a warrant for his arrest." He handed her the datapad so she could see for herself.

"'Oo's Com Narcom?" asked Portia. She looked over Leela's shoulder at the datapad and her eyes widened. There was a mugshot of a ragged-bearded parolee bearing the number 60031, a holograph of the former prime minister of Montal, and a sketch that resembled Leela's father. There was a reward of 50,000 credits, dead or alive.

"Me, Portia," said Leela's father. "My real name is Com Narcom."

Leela's voice was thick. "Do we really have to leave?"

"Koss is here," said Com grimly. "And he has a lot more power than he did when I last encountered him. He's inspector _general_ now. His resources and jurisdiction span the entire sector. We have to leave. I've selected a planet in the Raioballo system. Lah'mu. It's quiet there, and sparsely populated, but the western hemisphere is home to many bustling, prosperous farming villages. We can be safe there, and happy. Our circumstances may be more humble but no less comfortable."

"The Raioballo system?" Leela cried. "But that's so far away!"

"That's the point," Com sighed.

"How many people are on Lah'mu anyway?" Leela asked. "Ten thousand?"

"From what I can gather, it's closer to five hundred."

Leela pinched the bridge of her nose. Portia shuffled her foot. "Jonpol, sir... Com? If you're leavin', I'm... I'm afraid I can't go with you."

Com thinned his lips. "Is that so."

"Yeah, well..." Portia sighed. "Someone 'as to look after Qualdo, don't they now?"

"He can come with us."

"Yeah, but..." Portia sighed. "I don't want to leave Apollon."

Leela chewed her lip. Neither did she.

"Alright then," said Com. "But where will you stay?"

"I can find an apartment with the money you gave me," Portia replied. "I'll be alright."

"I'll give you more," said Com, getting up from his bed and going over to the dresser. "Just to make certain you'll be okay."

"Thank you, sir."

"Leela," said Com as he took a small box of credits from his drawer, "pack your things. We're leaving as soon as we can."

Portia followed Leela out of the room. Leela turned around, her eyes brimming with tears. Portia hugged her.

"I'm going to miss you," Leela whispered.

"You've been so good to me," Portia choked. "I wish I could repay you. I 'ope we see each other again."

Leela nodded and squeezed Portia harder.

"I'll tell Pollon goodbye for you," Portia promised.

Leela smiled. "You're the best sister I ever had."

A lump came to Portia's throat. "May the Force be with you."

* * *

Apollon panted as he walked back inside the cantina, resting his hands on his knees. The room was emptying as boxes, tables and chairs were being carried out and piled onto the barricade.

"Apollon!" called Onjol with three chairs in his arms. "Keep up the good work!"

Apollon nodded and swallowed, catching his breath.

"Onjol!" Haldo called. "Incoming transmission from the Alliance!"

Onjol put his chairs down. "Patch them through."

Haldo nodded and activated the holoprojector on the bar. A hologram appeared of a Mon Calamari sitting on a crane chair. "This is Commander Gallar of Beluga Cell with a message for Onjol Ros of Khojaw's Army," said the Mon Calamari broguishly. "Onjol, do ye copy?"

"I'm here, Commander," said Onjol, walking over and saluting. "It's an honor to meet you."

"Likewise," Gallar replied. "The fleet is assemblin. We'll reach Pasir by three hundred hours."

"Excellent!" cried Onjol. "We'll activate the shield when the barricades are complete. We should be able to hold off any attacks until you arrive."

"We're loadin up now," said Gallar. "Beluga Fleet is all the Alliance can spare, but of course ye'll have the Cloud-Riders tae, thanks tae yer friend Antilles. They should arrive shortly before we do."

"Thank you for your help, Commander," Onjol nodded. "We couldn't do this without you."

"May the Force be with ye," said Gallar. His chair swiveled around as he closed the transmission.

"Hello?" came a voice from outside. Apollon turned around. A familiar Weequay sauntered into the bar.

"Ohnaka?" Apollon asked.

"Ah! I remember you," said Hondo, chuckling. "You were looking for someone named Tarkay. Did you ever find him?"

"Yeah, I did," said Apollon bitterly. "I wish I hadn't. He wasn't the hero I took him for."

"My sympathies, my young friend," said the pirate, putting a hand on Apollon's shoulder. Then he spread his arms and faced Onjol. "I have come to assist the Rebellion!"

"Thank you for joining us, Captain Ohnaka," Onjol said, shaking the pirate's hand appreciatively.

"_Captain_ Ohnaka!" Hondo exclaimed joyfully. "Did you hear what he called me? Captain Ohnaka..." He lifted a goggle to wipe a tear from his eye.

"'Ondo!" Qualdo came running into the room, pilot goggles over his eyes.

"Hello there, my fine young scoundrel!" Hondo laughed, bumping fists with the boy and rubbing his knuckles on the top of his head. "How are you doing?"

"Qualdo, you should be sleeping," said Onjol. "It's the middle of the night."

"I wanted to see 'Ondo," said Qualdo.

"How do you know him?" asked Apollon.

"Oh, this kid," Hondo chuckled. "The little scoundrel recognized me on sight last time I came here. He'd heard all about me and ran right up!"

"'E signed my 'elmet!" said Qualdo, taking it off his head to show them the inside. The pirate's autograph was scrawled in silver. "I'm goin' to be a pirate when I grow up, an' 'Ondo's gonna teach me! I'm goin' to be 'is proaty-jay."

"That's right!" Hondo laughed, wagging his finger. "But not until you're older! I tend to lose a lot of protégés," he explained to Apollon and Onjol. "Piracy is a _very_ complicated profession."

"In the meantime, I'm goin' to be a rebel!" Qualdo beamed.

"Ha ha ha, good for you!" Hondo laughed. "Me, myself, I like to help out occasionally, but ehh, it's not always my cup of tea. However, being a mercenary has its benefits— from time to time. Which reminds me, young man," he added, turning to Onjol. "Let's discuss my payment over a drink, and then, Qualdo, I have something for you."

"Yippee!" Qualdo jumped in the air as Hondo led Onjol away by the arm to discuss business.

Apollon decided to continue working. He picked up one of the crates stacked in the middle of the room.

Dunn stumbled crookedly inside, a tube in his mouth.

"Dunn, what is _that?_" Apollon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a backpack full of Savareen," Dunn grinned. He took a long slurp from the tube and tapped his temple. "Genius, isn't it?"

"How are you going to shoot?" Apollon groaned.

"Like I have to be sober to shoot better than the bucketheads," Dunn snorted.

"Take that thing off," Apollon sighed. "If Onjol sees you with that on he'll demote you."

"It's not like our ranks mean anything," Dunn shrugged. "We're not soldiers."

"We will be when we join the Alliance," said Apollon.

"You mean when _you_ join the Alliance," Dunn retorted. "I'm going to settle down and kick back on a new Empire-free world, and when you come home kicking the Empire out of the rest of the galaxy, I'll throw you all a party."

Apollon shook his head and walked out, searching for a spot to place the box. He found one and climbed to the top to put the box down.

From the top of the barricade, he saw a massive carrier entering the atmosphere.

"That'd be the Cloud-Riders, I presume."

Apollon started and almost fell over the barricade. "Parjai! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," Parjai chuckled. "Natural Mandalorian stealth."

Apollon grinned sheepishly. "Were you able to get any of your people to lend assistance?"

"I tried, but Clan Ralhac is occupied reclaiming the mother system," Parjai sighed. "That's alright. There's an enclave of Mandos here on Pasir. They'll be here in the morning."

Apollon looked out over the city. He couldn't see Leela's house from here. He wondered if she was missing him now.

If they did win the battle and free Pasir, would Com see the good of what they had striven for? Could he and Leela be together, if only they won this battle?

Parjai clapped him on the shoulder. "May the Force be with us."


End file.
